


A Touch of Destiny

by Hades_the_Blingking



Category: Supernatural
Genre: ALWAYS consent ayy, Aliens, Ambassador!Sam, BAMF Lucifer, BAMF Sam, Consent, Epic space battles, Explicit Sexual Content, Feelings, Fluff, Happy Sam is my Kink, Humor, Humour, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, Lucifer is Sassy, M/M, Nicknames, Plot Twists, Sam is bitchy, Sam is in booty shorts for 90 percent of this fic, Sass, Slight Sexual Harassment, Slow Burn, Space AU, Space Pirates, Stubborn af Sam, THE RETURN OF THE SASSHOLES, Tags may be added, Wing Kink, awesome brother relationship, booty shorts, but isn't that always Lucifer?, it's never meant to end up this damn cute goddamn, may have elements of Stockholm or Lima syndrome but I don't really think so?, my own writing has me confused, not all happy times tbh, problematic fav Lucifer, questionable morals, sam is sassy, so much sass, that's right motherfuckin space pirates, the slowest of burns, this could be a book, very detailed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-19
Updated: 2017-07-15
Packaged: 2018-09-09 16:53:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 30
Words: 115,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8900263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hades_the_Blingking/pseuds/Hades_the_Blingking
Summary: Space AUHumans have moved out into the galaxy, colonized planets and become one of the most successful races in the charted star systems under the governmental organization of the Syndicate.When their mother was killed by space pirates, all under the command of the dread Pirate King Lucifer, Sam and Dean were brought up in the Syndicate military under their vengeance-hungry father, Fleet Armada John Winchester. However, Sam can’t stand to serve under martial ways anymore and turns to the Ambassador’s Guild, in the hope creating peace rather than enforcing it. But with Sam on a path toward First Class Ambassador, one of the most dangerous positions in the Syndicate, who knows who or what will shoot for the target on his back.Gear up for some sexy sass in space.Comments are very much appreciated! :)





	1. 'It's Just A Phase!'

Sam flicked his interactive Multi-Device off ‘record’ with what he hoped was a calm sigh as the lecturer closed their Advanced Peace-Keeping simulation with a few reminders about research on alien communications and traditions. He didn’t need to be reminded; he been burning the culture of the Jormjyr and their two opposing planetary tribes Volsung and Scylfing into his head since two weeks ago, when he’d been given his Final Ambassador Examination.  
Some postgraduate diplomats achieved a Class by persuading a culture to accept mining treaties or negotiate food grants from The Syndicate. But Sam’s mission, because he’d been mad enough to accept it, was to take on two extremely advanced, volatile tribes on the brink of an interplanetary war, and, to be honest, he’d probably pass if he just survived – as the saying went: “Those who want to live in service of the Syndicate join army. Those who wanted to die in service of the Syndicate join the Ambassadors.”  
It may as well be the School of Diplomacy’s motto, emblazoned beneath the names of the honourable dead in the building’s foyer. For some reason, that ever-growing plaque seemed more like a warning to Sam than a tribute, but to hell if he cared. Honestly, he wouldn’t be surprised if his glorious Armada Admiral Dad hadn’t put him up for this, to show him just how fruitless his chosen line of work was. 

Dad had wanted two perfect military boys to grow up with perfect military records and become perfect military assholes. At the age of 18 and two years into the Syndicate Army Service, Sam had discovered he didn’t really want to be a military asshole and forever take orders from his father. And hadn’t that been a party – Dad had raged and spit and told Sam he was an insult to his mother’s memory, which led Sam to yell that Mary had taken them away from John to stop them becoming Dad’s little soldiers, and it was an insult to her memory what John was doing. If Dean hadn’t been there, Sam was sure they would have beaten each other black and blue.  
Of course, Sam had been kicked out. Kicked out as in Dad had bought him an apartment on the other side of the city because an Armada Admiral couldn’t let his image down. To the public, Sam was ‘going through a phase’. Sam was the whiny, rebellious brat who didn’t appreciate his caring, hard-working father. Sam was the failure of the golden family, who’d chosen to throw his life away trying to talk peace instead of enforce it. 

Well, 8 years into this ‘phase’, and Sam wasn’t quitting – Dean was a lot to blame for that. Despite their father trying to keep them apart (because, y’know, he wouldn’t want Dean getting contaminated by Sam’s free thinking), they saw each other more than once a week, sparred, shot targets at the old Singer shipyard on the outskirts of town, and never judged each other for their career choices. Speaking of which…Sam checked his MD.  
Dean: You done yet?  
Sam had just said ‘yeah’ out loud and let the MD type and send, when a playful fist connected with his shoulder.  
“Sam, my main man! They finally released you!” Brady grinned up at him, and Sam clapped the doctor in training on the shoulder. The School of Diplomacy was small enough that it could share the Science and Medicine campus. It was a little frustrating; the arts and sciences got a load of funding, but the Social Sciences always seemed to be a bit on the wayside; not enough to complain about, but just enough to make life a little more difficult.  
“Yeah, you look ready to go and make some fucking peace!” Jess grinned from behind Sam’s best friend. Her mother was Silkan, so she always had an iridescent blue sheen to her skin which Sam could look at forever.

Of course, almost every human was part alien now, after hundreds of years in space – hell, Sam was only full human because his family came down through Purist colonies. But he certainly didn’t share their opinions, especially where it concerned Jess. If life gave him a break from busting his ass on research so that he wouldn’t get murdered by warring aliens, he might try asking her out.  
“Oh, yeah, this.” Sam smirked down at his pure white belted robe, pinned shut with the gold olive branch that picked him out as a postgraduate diplomat, but an Unclassed Ambassador. Hey, he didn’t have the nickname Space Jesus for no reason. “We had a formal Peace-Keeping Simulation today before the Final Exam, so everything had to be on point.”  
“Yeah, whatever you say, Space Jesus.” Brady grinned as they headed down the corridor, and Sam just noticed Kevin was with them too.  
“Shut it, Dr Sexy MD.” Sam smirked and grinned over at their buddy from the Science Division. “Hey Kevin! You asked Channing to the Hall Ball yet?”

When final exams were over, every Hall of Residence held dances as a way for everyone to catch up, say goodbye and have an excuse to dress up. It was an Earth tradition that dated back hundreds, even thousands of years and although Sam wasn’t big on dressing up like a display droid, he might not mind if he had Jess by his side.  
“What? No, no, I er, have been busy.” Kevin took a rare break from touch-telepathically streaming notes into his MD (totally cheating, but the little guy was more Yoot than human) and swallowed as he looked up. Jeez, it wasn’t as if Sam had suggested he throw celery at a Gunschwalt (they sprouted nine arms and five inch fangs when you did that).  
“Aw go on Kev!” Jess grinned and bumped the smaller guy. “She is so into you.”  
A black mottle blotched up Kevin’s skin – some people would think he’d sporadically caught Yolden Blood Poisoning, but with two doctors and a very persuasive Sam in the friend group, they’d all soon figured out it was a Yootian blush.  
“I – I don’t know why she would, I mean, I don’t really do anything and – “  
“C’mon, you’re adorable!” Brady clapped the little guy on the shoulder so hard he tripped as they walked. “ _I’d_ ask you if I didn’t have my eye on that cute Hartan nurse. Can’t tell what gender they are, but it ain’t stopped me before!”  
“Hartan? Don’t they have, like, six eyes?” Sam sniggered. He didn’t have the biggest relationship history – his first lover had been a cute little Prixy, who changed genders according to temperature, he’d been on-off with a dude at the SAS before that which hadn’t gone beyond second base, and he’d had to split with his Lycanthrope girlfriend Madison at the end last year a) because she fucking shed everywhere and never cleaned up and b) because at 7th and 8th year, shit really hit the fan work wise.  
“Hey man, allow me my kinks. Who knows what else they have six of?” Brady winked, then a shit-eating grin spread over his face. “How about you, eh, eh, Space Jesus? Got a special someone in mind?”

It might have been Sam’s imagination, but he swore Jess looked down, then looked back up at him with a teensy bit of hope. It probably was imagined – to be honest most people didn’t even look at him twice, or only did to get to see Dean through him. He didn’t know whether he was just not very attractive, or whether they saw him as dead meat walking, or maybe it was because he got flustered talking to anyone he really liked, but right now being pleasing to the eye wasn’t really his top priority. Not that he’d ever want it to be. He didn’t know how Dean dealt with being an object of lust for so many people – it’d make Sam uncomfortable in the least. 

“Dude, I’ll think about dance dates when I’ve survived my frickin Final.” It hadn’t fully hit Sam that tomorrow might be his last day alive, and he was glad it hadn’t seemed to have fully hit his friends either. That or they had incredible faith in him to survive through sheer willpower, which was fair.  
“Don’t worry too much, Sam. 75% of postgraduate Ambassadors survive their Final.” Kevin said as if that was a comfort compared to the 98-100% the other courses had. And that survival percentage would be so much lower if Kevin had specified First Class ambassadors. That was more like 10% survival rate. Even the Syndicate Special Battalion had a 88% survival rating on their Final Exam, which Sam heard involved diffusing a plasma bomb and getting shot at with electro-spheres. He hadn’t picked the hard road – he’d picked the badly built, booby-trapped corridor that people only go down in horror movies because their common sense has been stripped for plot purposes.  
“About that, Sam…” Jess caught his elbow as they slipped into the glass capsule lift to the ground floor. “Be careful. Keep your radius shield on and let the supervisor handle things if it gets out of hand. I know how headstrong you can be, but we both know Ambassador Jordanial knows what he’s doing.”

Sam shot her what he hoped was a comforting smile, but deep down his gut churned. There were so many things that could go wrong, and even if he settled the case with evidence he’d obtained by less than legal means (their mother had taught them well), he might not pass, hell, he might get charged and brought to court. But this was more than him getting a Class rank. If he failed, if he wasn’t bold enough to use every means at his disposal to help these people find peace, then they would be condemned to years, maybe decades or centuries of bloody war. That would be on him, and he’d rather get thrown in prison than wonder if he could have stopped it if he’d been that little bit more brave.  
“Don’t you worry about me, Jess, I’ve worked with Ambassador Jordanial for months now. We can handle it.” Without even realizing what he was doing, Sam reached up and tucked a stray strand of blonde hair back behind Jess’ each. Whoops. He…hadn’t meant to do that. She looked at him for a second, probably because that had been extremely weird, and a prickle of heat danced up Sam’s neck. Before it could reach his cheeks, Brady cleared his throat with a grin.  
“Ground floor, guys, or do you two want to stay in the elevator?”  
Sam shot his friend the bitchface he reserved for special occasions that usually involved Dean, then followed his friend out to find…the foyer was almost full. Not, like, end of class traffic full, but a ‘tourists staring at Triskovy’s Winged Lion’ kind of full.  
“What the heck…” Sam, being the giant even when he was probably the only full-human there, craned to look over the groups of nervous girls to see…oh for fuck’s sake. Goddamn it Dean. He hadn’t expected his brother to actually come _inside_ , because this is what happened whenever Dean stayed in one spot in public for too long.

It was a bit of an understatement to say Dean was popular: the military’s golden boy, graduated the Syndicate Army Service (the SAS) five years ago, and if he passed his test tomorrow, would become one of the youngest Battlecruiser Captains in history. Although a lot of older officers scoffed it was nepotism on John’s behalf, Sam knew Dean had worked his ass off to get to where he was today. Of course, Dean put it down to him being ‘handsome, single and always ready to mingle’ although Sam still raised an eyebrow at the ‘handsome’ part and got smacked for it. Yeah, when they were younger, he’d been jealous of Dean – popular, loved, perfect, always had the girls, boys and everything in between and outside fawning over him. But when you’re fifteen, things are so shallow and naïve, and if training to be an Ambassador did anything, it wrung you dry of any shallowness or naivety. Possibly sanity too, Sam thought as he slid through the crowd of people toward where Dean seemed to be signing a shoe. With an eye roll that possibly transcended human anatomy, he crossed his arms and waited where Dean would see him, unless he got dogpiled by rabid fans. 

Sam stood there for approximately one and a half seconds before someone slammed into his side.  
“Hey, move it peace-dweeb! Some of us wanna see Commander Winchester!”  
Oh dear. Looked like one of Dean’s fanboys had come all the way from the SAS campus to grovel at Dean’s shiny, shiny military booties. Sam often had very tempting thoughts to ruin Dean’s image to these people by maybe recounting the time he’d literally dragged Dean’s sorry, drunk, half-naked (and the wrong half too) ass home where he’d cried about not having any Strawberry and Pepper flavoured Doritos and then proceeded to throw up in an incinerator and burn his eyebrows off. He’d had to wear fake ones for months after that, but Sam still called him BaldFace McGee.  
“Hey Sammy. This kid ain’t bothering you is he?” Dean had somehow extracted himself from the shoe signing and crossed his arms at the SAS guy who looked like he’d seen a god and True Fear in one go.  
“Don’t call me Sammy.” Sam sighed with a weary look. As much as he preferred zero fame and attention, ‘peace-dweeb’ was a new low. “And no, I don’t think he meant it.”  
“No, sir!” The guy snapped to attention and saluted them both, and Sam could feel another eye-roll brewing. Dean gave him a lazy salute in return, and the guy looked ecstatic to the point he might pop. “I’d just like to say, sir, that you are an inspiration and everyone in my barracks wants to be like you, sir!”  
Dean nodded and winked. “Well, here’s to hoping, eh?”

He clapped the guy on the shoulder, and Sam decided it was probably best to drag Dean away before this fanboy literally jizzed his pants.  
“C’mon Dean, I’ve gotta cram tonight as well.” He gestured toward the door with his head and led the way as Dean gave his fans a wave. “You do know that if your head gets any bigger, they’ll have to put it on a Golem body.”  
“Hey, let a man enjoy his people.” Dean held out his hands as though imagining a stadium audience as they retreated back out into the warm air of Earth IV.  
“Dude, you’re a Commander, not a rockstar.” Sam smirked, and made his way towards his hydro-craft in the Ambassador Lot.  
“Captain soon, if tomorrow goes well! And you’ll be, what, an Ambassador First Class!” Dean puffed up, proud enough for the both of them. But although Sam had no doubt Dean would wing his way through the Captaincy Assessment, he felt a stone of doubt sink into his stomach. Ambassador First Class was a dream – Classes were ranked on category, and within those categories were ranks. First Class were war ambassadors, Second Class were interplanetary trade ambassadors and Third Class were internal affairs ambassadors. Within that, if you had a 100% success rate, you were a Rank A 80-90 %, Rank B and so on and so forth. For First Class ambassador, you had to go through the Second and Third Class training as well as the extra few years to even _qualify_ to try out for First.

A First Class Rank A ambassador got you the triple dove ensignia; Sam knew only Iortja Maja and Skjorborn the Northern had ever achieved such a rank, and Iortja had been assassinated by weapons dealers on her third case, whereas Skjorborn had martyred themselves in a desperate but effective effort to achieve peace on their second mission to Praitao Nine. True, if Sam survived and succeeded nullifying war proposals between the Volsung and Scylfing tribes, it would give him a First Class Rank A reputation. But ‘survive’ and ‘succeed’ were the key words there. Most Diplomats wouldn’t even try for First Class, given the high risk and intensive training – Sam had done enough practise missions in his First Class preparation to be A Rank in both of the other classes.

“Hey Sam, c’mon, don’t look so down.” Dean gave his shoulder a little shake as they stopped in front of the sleek, black capsule. “We’re gonna get you in some proper clothes, go to Bobby’s, shoot some cans and pop some beers, because I’ll be damned if you spend what could very well be your last day holed up alone in that goddamn apartment.”  
Sam wished with all his heart that Dean could come with him in a military escort, but tensions were so high between the tribes that the Ambassador’s Guild had ruled out the option of any exterior militia.  
“Thanks Dean.” He sighed, then smiled, because although they’d argued to the end of the Universe about Sam going down such a dangerous path, Dean had finally seen that it was what Sam really, truly wanted. His brother had stopped trying to talk him out of it, and Dean being so supportive right now was everything he needed. “But I’d better be home by eight, because being holed up in my apartment might just save my life.”  
“You got it, Sammy.” Dean smirked as Sam paced around his hydro-craft to the driver’s side.  
“Don’t call me Sammy, Baldface Mcgee.”Sam grinned back. It’d do him good. With Dean he could relax a little, not get a headache and go stir crazy from going over the same notes and footage a hundred times. With Dean here, for some reason he had a strangely good feeling about tomorrow.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to my new fic! :D Gear up, thissun's gonna be a long ride, but whoo boy have I had fun writing it. I hope the first chapter has piqued your interest, although it does start a bit slow, so hang in there. I would love to hear what you thought of it though! Leave a comment if you like - it would make my day n.n Stay awesome my buddies (☞ ᐛ )☞  
> Also with the Jormjyr: Singular = Jormjyl, plural = Jormjyr.
> 
> If you'd like to support me, you can [check out my novel](https://www.kobo.com/nz/en/ebook/tea-in-the-outback) or [shout me a drink!](https://www.paypal.com/cgi-bin/webscr?cmd=_s-xclick&hosted_button_id=TT3Q6W95QFSM2) ^.^


	2. The Reward of Saving People

It took an 8 hour flight on sub-light speed for the science ship that had been charged as their non-hostile escort to reach the outer-mid band of the charted star systems from Earth IV, and another hour and a half to get to Norja, the ‘Switzerland Moon’ around a gas planet between Volsung and Scylfing. Having woken up at 6am, Sam slept through most of it, but woke up twice in a sweat from dreams of incineration from formidable Jormjyr technology. From his research, Sam had discovered they had what the Syndicate assumed was particle diffusion technology and natural energy harnessing mechanisms that the Science Division still couldn’t guess at how they worked. He had no idea if his radius shield would slow or deflect any of their weapons, but had to rely on the generally wise nature of the Jormjyr for his safety. It didn’t help that there were myths that certain Jormjyr could unlock dormant genes in their DNA at will and become nigh unstoppable beasts that ripped their enemies to shreds. But those were just myths. Sam hoped.  
“Ambassador Jordanial and Diplomat Winchester, Public shuttlecraft 2491 is docking for pickup. Please make your way down to the hangar bay.” Came the shipwide intercom, and Sam leapt up from the bed of the guest quarters like someone had fired a starting gun. An alert popped up on his MD as well, just in case he’d been listening to music or something and missed it. Like hell he would have. Sam had been waiting for that call for the last hour.

“Ready Sam?” Jordanial met him in the hallway outside, and the younger Winchester felt a coil of nerves twist down his stomach. No, not nerves. He had this. He could do this, make Dean proud, stick it to Dad and save two planets from devastation. It was his time to sink or swim, and by the stubborn blood that ran in his veins, Sam swore to swim until he died of exhaustion.  
“Yeah.” He smoothed down his white robe in an act of self-assurance as they made their way toward the hangar bay.  
“For the Exam, you have to lead the talks but I will be at the side of the room at all times. You know to motion if you need me to step in.” The humanoid with an exoskeleton of striped green and blue fixed him with a soft look. “And remember, sometimes people just can’t see peace as an option, no matter how much they need it.”  
Sam nodded and fingered his satchel as nerves boiled into impatience. _Actual impatience_. The anxiety burned away into a strange fire, the strange fire he’d felt when he’d defied Dad and ripped off the yoke of expectation. He had the case all mapped out in his head, he had the evidence he needed: he’d dug down into obscure research files to find anything and everything on how to conduct yourself properly in front of a Jormjyl. As Jess had put it, he was ready to make some fucking peace.

***

If Sam had to say something for the Jormjyr, it was that they had a talent for architecture. The Council Hall, which had been built at a time of peace and collaboration between the interplanetary kingdoms, swelled outward in an elliptical glass dome, held up by tendrils of golden metal that wove upwards from decorative tree pilasters. Every tree had leaves, little native animals and stylistic whorls of Jormjyr artistic culture, and the whole arrangement steeped the hall below in gold and white light. At ground level, its structure was very much like that of a conventional court – stepped oak-brown seats faced each other with a royal box in either side, the thrones of which seemed like they were roughly hewn out of golden tree stumps. From his readings, Sam knew about the Jormjyr love of nature and beauty, which lent itself wonderfully to his case.  
“Shall we get set up?” Jordanial led him over to a speaker’s dais at the front of the room, but it was like no dais Sam had ever seen – sets of wide stairs ran up either side to form a triangular-shaped raise from the front. At the top of the stairs, a wide, red carpeted platform opened up, hedged in by what seemed like a control panel of some sort – Sam would have been lost, but some helpful Jormjyl had installed an MD port and put a holographic, badly drawn arrow pointing down at it. It was kinda cute – like whoever had done it was like ‘we do not want small human to get confused, so we shall draw a big red arrow so they are not confused.’ With a little smile on his face, Sam plugged in his device, checked that the curved screen behind him picked up his screen and made sure for one last time that he knew where all his evidence was. Right there in clearly labelled files.

“Ok, let’s do this.” Sam filled his chest up with one breath, and huffed it out as he looked over the bare benches, soon to be filled with advanced alien life-forms on the brink of war.  
“I will let the parties know.” The swish of Jordanial’s white robe seemed to echo around the perfect acoustics of this place. Sam tilted his head up to admire the sparkle of the miniature gold flowers on the ceiling. Well, if he was going to be incinerated by cutting-edge alien technology today, at least this was a nice place to die. The fairly morbid thought was interrupted as two Jormyjr warriors entered the Council Hall, one beside the right throne, the other beside the left. The guard on the right’s armour matched the golden boughs of the decorative trees – bright gold, but Sam supposed the material was actually much stronger than the precious metal. On the left, the guard’s armour seemed like a multi-faceted diamond, like the glass in between the boughs. Both matched, with almost demonic horns that curved from their helms and eye slits so narrow that Sam couldn’t see any part of their face. 

Without a word, both guards drew horns cut from something too large to be a bull and blew one loud, clear note in perfect synchronization. Sam swallowed for a second, then remembered Jormyjr did not take signs of weakness very well and searched for that fire again, hung on to the determination in his belly. He slid his universal translator out of his robe pocket and pushed it into his ear. A lot of people just got chipped - had their entire MD, translator software included, plugged right into their brain. Ugh, the stories put Sam off that; where there was technology, people could hack it, and he’d heard that people with chips (a rare few, but still some) woke up missing body parts or in test labs or were spied on through their own eyes by creepy ass perverts. Yeah…No thanks, he’d rather keep his brain his own.  
“With the entrance of Queen Borghild and King Hermodr, we declare this Council in session!” The two guards cried and stepped aside for their monarchs to pass to the thrones, and Sam took the pair in with interest. Although Jormyjr had a peaceful agreement with the Syndicate, they didn’t invite humans to their worlds or share their culture – Sam might even be the first human to see both the King of Scylfing and the Queen of Volsung in person, apart from perhaps Commodore Chase, who had arranged this whole thing in the first place. Chase was a cultural observer, and the Jormyjr allowed her to stay on this moon to study what they had built and made between them. Looking at the place, Sam could tell why she’d pressed both parties so hard to let the humans help, to try and find a better way than destruction and war.

Beside the golden guard, Queen Borghild settled down into her throne, a proud figure with a mane of white hair, skin coated with the small blue patterns that Sam had read developed as naturally as wrinkles did on humans with age. Across from her King Hermodr sat, the younger of the two, but no less present – his blue eyes were hard and a sharp contrast against his olive skin. 

As if a seal had been broken, other members of the council filed through with the tense thrum of murmurs that seemed to match the heartbeat in Sam’s ears. This was it. This was the deep breath before the plunge, the pitter-patter of rain before the thunder and lightning. But the more he looked at these people, with their armour whose decorative knots and patterns seemed alive, who seemed to be steeped in so much beauty, the more that stubborn fire smouldered away inside him. Sam let them sit for a moment, to leave room for any late comers, then stepped up on the dais and hoped the strength showed in his eyes.  
“Tama t’ joryjun amylry daen Jormyjr Borghild Rojrd y Hermodr Tojrd samae!” Sam seemed oddly disconnected as the words he’d wrote learned slipped off his tongue like he’d hoped they would. Somewhere, he heard a heartbeat run like a wild horse as the gathering fell deathly silent. “By the passage and rite of the elders, I believe first word falls to Queen Borghild.”  
He turned to the white-haired Queen, and quite suddenly remembered he hadn’t turned his radius shield on. Perhaps it was for the best – the Jormyjr might see it as an act of cowardice.

King Hermodr didn’t dispute the rite, but tapped his lip as though impatient – Sam could already see an argument brewing beneath that calculative face.  
“You honour us with the veneration of our culture, young one.” Borghild nodded toward him, and Sam held in a sigh of relief – he’d passed the first test, one of what seemed like one hundred. “You may formally introduce yourself before I present my case.”  
“I am named Sam Winchester of Earth IV, neutral party to the hearing of troubles between the Volsung and the Scylfing.” He drew his left hand, palm upward toward his chin, across his chest in what he hoped his sources had been correct in relating the gesture for peace. The Jormyjr didn’t laugh or turn into man eating beasts, so he assumed he’d got it at least half right. “Here I give my heart, my soul and my word that I shall hear each of you fairly and find a solution that results in something better than bloodshed.”  
He knew he’d said it wrong. He knew. The proper statement was ‘endeavour to find a solution’. But Sam had fucking Win in his name for a reason, and right here, right now, if he didn’t solve this dispute, he didn’t deserve to even wear the olive branch on his robe. 

The Queen eyed him with interest then sat a little straighter, one hand curled around the golden column of a sceptre that seemed to hold a kind of purple power Sam had never seen before at its apex.  
“Your determination precedes you, Winchester.” She nodded, and glanced down with a kind of gravitas that made any movement in the gilded Hall still. “I present my case. Four weeks ago, one of my villages was raided by the Scyflings. Their ship bore down on over a hundred of the defenceless and almost killed every resident, even the young ones. The trees in which they lived were plundered then burned to ash. This abominable act could not go unpunished; we captured a ship of theirs and held and interrogated the crew. We asked the Scyflings to send those who had done such dishonourable deeds in exchange for their crew, but they chose to protect them instead. For this insult, we killed our captives.”  
Hermodr’s jaw was tight, but despite what Sam had heard about this race, they seemed to have a clear code of conduct.  
“The next week, the Scyflings took another village on the sacred day of Tred, a day where both our peoples are forbade violence. This time there were no survivors.” Borghild continued like a grandmother telling a particularly dark fairy tale to a child. “Too much Volsung blood is on their hands to be ignored now.”

Sam nodded and turned to look at the Scyfling King. “Your Highness Hermodr, if you will.”  
“Four weeks ago, one of our ships was stolen!” The black-haired Scyfling spat. “We took no part in raiding or killing, we have not done such things since Brynd the Tyrant ruled before the Aegy. But you attacked a peaceful science ship without provocation!”  
“In all fairness, you must understand that it seems the Volsung believed they had provocation.” Sam kept his tone neutral, and the King turned on him, eyes ablaze.  
“You side with them?”  
“It is my job to see both sides of the argument, highness. If I believe your account and not theirs then that is still injustice.” Sam’s mouth seemed to answer for him on muscle memory response, thank goodness. The statement must have hit a vein in their code of morals, because the King huffed, but broke off the glare.  
“How can you say we have no provocation?” Borghild growled. “If not four weeks ago, then a week ago! Four hundred Volsung butchered, King Hermodr! Not warriors, but peaceful folk, the prey of cowards!”  
“Queen – “ Sam tried to interrupt before the situation escalated, but he was overridden before he had the chance.  
Hermodr seemed to fall into shadow and grow in his throne like a tidal wave about to break.  
“Coward? Coward?! You dare care the Scyflings cowards when you yourselves attack our unprotected vessels like Vendynal to the prey of the mountain birds?”

Queen Borghild snapped to her feet, faster than anyone who looked her age should have, and her whole side of the Council Hall rose too. Sam shot a glance at Jordanial, but his partner was fixated on the ferocious tribe of warriors who had just risen, rather than Sam’s ‘oh shit’ face. Looked like he was on his own.  
“I will rip your insolent tongue from your mouth, boy-king!” Borhild raised her staff, and this was it. Sam didn’t even have time to think of his own safety, just smacked the surface top of his dais with all the strength he could muster and did the most stupid thing in his whole life.  
“ _SHUT UP!_ ” He roared at the pair of them, and the sound echoed like blaster shot through the Hall. Before either shocked monarch could kill him, Sam ploughed on. “If we can’t get past the cases presentation, then why don’t we move straight on to the hard evidence, hmm?”  
Borghild opened her mouth as if to speak, but Sam had put up with enough today. “Before you accuse anyone of anything, how about you sit down and let me do my job?”

And they sat down. Both parties just took a seat as Sam drew a heated breath and pulled up the evidence he’d risked eight years of Diplomacy Schooling and possibly his future as a free man on.  
“As it happened, a week ago there was a malfunctioning, unmanned Syndicate charter droid mapping this segment of the star system. It was meant to be in the next quadrant over, but by some lucky miracle its navigation glitched.” For the first time in this session, Sam felt the power shift on to him, as a mutter of interest passed through the tribes. “These probes are fitted with emergency detection gear; if the planet has a peace treaty with the Syndicate, they fly into perceived hazards, record the situation and feed it back to the Syndicate so that we can respond accordingly. Now look.” Sam turned to the screen, and as he did, he caught sight of Jordanial’s wide eyes, which was reasonable. Sam had done as good as openly admitted he’d hacked the Syndicate security databases to get this footage, which had a maximum penalty of five years prison, or double if the case was deemed connected to Space Piracy. Well damnit, the Syndicate should have cleared their backlog and presented him with the relevant footage, because this was fucking important. He’d gone too far to back down, and from the look of things, Sam was the only thing between both these races ripping each other’s throats out.

He played the footage, the footage he’d watched a hundred times and a hundred times again.  
The probe plunged down into the atmosphere, and through clouds – the fog reached all the way down to the forest below and melded with smoke as it burned. Trees were half-melted with the tell-tale mark of plasma cannons and bodies were strewn here and there through the smoke. Then the prow of a ship cut through the grey cloak, but it wasn’t the sleek, patterned design of the Jormjyr. Sam had known as soon as he’d seen the very tip of the spiny black wings that curved around like insect pincers. He and Dean had a picture of a ship almost the exact same shape on a holochip around their necks as a reminder, but Sam didn’t even need to look at it anymore to see it. He’d memorized every detail of the ship that their Dad said he’d chase to the ends of the galaxy for killing their mother. Pirates.

Another mutter passed through the Jormjyr tribes, and both monarchs watched the screen with keen interest as the ship fired into the haze.  
“I believe Hermodr is right.” Sam stated and let the video play in the background. Borghild stayed silent, and Sam thanked his lucky stars that these aliens lived up to their reputation of wisdom. “Could it be possible that pirates hijacked a Scyfling ship and used it as a cover to plunder a Volsung town? And then when they had set them up, returned to plunder another city, confident that the Volsung would believe it was the Scyflings if they left no witnesses?” Sam looked between the two parties, then back to the droid’s recording. “They could have continued plundering for months and months like this if the probe hadn’t picked it up, and if you had gone to war and fought, well, ships are easy to pick when they’re scrap. Towns are easy to raid while one faction is out warring against the other.”  
He turned to Borghild, as it was her choice to believe whether the first attack had been piracy – he had no footage for that one, no hard evidence, but it made sense. She had to see the pattern. 

The Queen considered her opposing monarch with an unreadable expression.  
“Before these affairs, I never had reason to believe Hermodr was a dishonourable King or that he would wish to invade us.” Borghild’s words broke the tension and to Sam’s surprise, he didn’t collapse from relief.  
“War is a horrific affair, Borghild. I will forgive your attack on my ship as it seems we have both been deceived.” Hermodr looked at his assembly, as though asking his warrior to dispute his words, but there were nods instead. Yet as good as this was, Sam wanted more.  
“Furthermore, your majesties, I propose an exchange. Two thousand, maybe three thousand Volsung exchange with the same amount of Scyflings. Would one side risk attacking the other, knowing they would harm their own people?” Sam looked between them. “Learn each other’s cultures, share each other’s resources – this Hall is proof of what beauty and prosperity can be achieved through unity rather than discord.”  
He gestured at the space, but he was on a roll now. “In your roots, you are brothers and sisters, from the same race, the same origin. Why forget this? Why not live in peace and friendship as the builders of this Hall once did and reap the rewards together?”  
There was another murmur, and Queen Borghild had fixed on him with interest.  
“You are young, human, yet your words speak beyond you.” To anyone who hadn’t studied their culture, it might have seen like a nice compliment. But Sam knew for a fact, he had just been honoured in a way rarely offered to those outside the Jormyjr culture. He bowed his head to show he understood the depth of her words. “What say you, Hermodr? Shall we be as our forebears of long past? Our differences may be great, but this young one can see something we have been blind to for too many generations.”

She cast her eyes around the space, and Hermodr stood and rapped the butt of his spear on the ground.  
“Assembly, vote!” He barked, and Sam’s jaw almost dropped in shock. Jeez, he hadn’t expected them to come to a conclusion this quickly. Usually there was discussions, paperwork, debate…but these people seemed to like to get to the point and do whatever they wanted to do quickly.  
“Those against the suggestion of Queen Borghild?” Hermodr counted the three or four hands raised. “Those with the suggestion of Queen Borghild?”  
The rest of the assembly raised their hands and Hermodr took a seat again. “I, Hermodr CaelSlayer of Ygglisian extend formal peace and treatise to Queen Borghild, Elder of the Red Mountains. It is my hope that this threat of death and destruction that so recently came upon us may inspire us to cease whatever grudges we have. As delegate Winchester says…were not our forebears more fruitful as one?”  
“Aye.” A female clad in the Scyflings’ clear armour stood – it seemed both factions had come expecting to fight it out. Another stood with her with the same response and another until the whole hall was on its feet. Finally, the two monarchs stood, and with their heralds, and headed down until the both stood opposite each other beneath the dais where Sam stood.  
“With Sam Winchester, Diplomat of Earth IV, Ambassador Jordanial of the Syndicate Ambassador Guild and the gathered councils of Scyfling and Volsung as witness, I, Borghild, Elder of the Red Mountains swear this blood oath of peace and unity with Hermodr, CaelSlayer of Ygglisian.” She held out her hand, and the herald passed her an ornate dagger, with which she sliced a clear line from her knuckle to her wrist. 

As Hermodr repeated the oath, a sudden swell of emotion swept over Sam, to the point where it fizzed up his nose and pricked his eyes. He let his long hair fall forward for a second as he wiped his eyes, unsure why the emotion was so strong. Then it hit him. This is what he’d trained eight years of his life for, this is what he’d sacrificed relationships, time and his own safety for; to save people, aliens, races. And for the first time in his life he didn’t feel like this was some petty revenge at Dad or that what he was doing was useless or didn’t make a difference. Because here he was, seeing a blood oath of peace made right before his eyes, an oath that he’d helped build.  
“Sam Winchester.” Queen Borghild raised her eyes up to him after the pair shared blood. Sam noted that the cuts on that backs of their hands had healed into a symbol of red, twisted knot work. “Without you, this councilroom would now be stained with blood, and a pointless war would loom on our horizons. Let me reward you.”  
  
With most other cultures, Sam would have refused, but it wasn’t the Jormyjr way to give physical gifts, nor was it permissible to decline the offer from royalty. And Sam had already yelled ‘shut up’ at the pair of them today. So he nodded and made his way down to where there monarchs stood. For a second, it struck him how large the beings were – both Borghild and Hermodr were broad and at least a head taller than him, which said something. Up close, each blue age mark seemed to be an intricate line of tiny interwoven threads. Borghild simply held out her hand, palm down, and Hermodr gestured at him to mirror the move, but with his palm up. As soon as Sam did so, the Queen’s calloused hand gripped his and a strange tingle buzzed down his body. The only word he could describe as was gold. It felt gold.  
“I read you Sam.” Borghild murmured, green eyes half shut. “When you need the truth most, then it shall be given.”

A flash of something sparked from her hand, up his shoulder and into the base of his skull, and Sam felt it in his eyes like a flare of heat. The hand let go, and Sam wasn’t at all sure how to react, but it left him with a gold hum and a sense of the ethereal – similar to watching a performance or being in a Holoreality for hours and then trying to find yourself afterwards. 

  
The monarchs moved away together as Hermodr proposed a banquet and festivities, and Sam turned to look at Jordanial. The older Ambassador had been quiet through the whole process, but as he was assessing Sam, it was probably his job to keep out of it as much as possible. Then Jordanial smiled and crossed the room, a small velvet box in his hand.  
“That footage certainly tipped the scales, Sam. You don’t mind me asking how you came across it?” The Ambassador asked with a teasing gleam in his eye, but if Mom had taught them anything, it was to never be too careful, even around friends.  
“The Jormyjr are at peace. Isn’t that all that matters?” Sam laughed as the adrenaline began to wore off and elation started to kick in. He hadn’t died. He hadn’t failed. This could possibly be the best day of his life.  
“Indeed.” Jordanial’s green lips curved in a knowing smirk. “There will be a full ceremony later of course, but for now…”  
He opened the box to reveal three gold doves on a brooch about two inches wide and long, and Sam could hardly believe this was real as his senior unpinned the olive branch and fixed the First Class insignia in its place.  
“Congratulations Sam, First Class Ambassador of the Syndicate. May your path be of strength and peace.” Jordanial put on hand across his heart and held the other open in the air in salute. Sam returned it, unable to keep the smile off his face. “Now I think we should leave before the celebrations begin – if their fighting won’t kill you, their drinking certainly will.”  
Sam nodded, a little sad to farewell this beautiful place, but excited more than anything to tell Dean that he’d done him proud.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sam being a space ambassador! c: Honestly, I'm just really enjoying worldbuilding in these first couple of chapters, so sorry if it goes on a bit D: Thank you everyone for all your kudos and comments on the first chapter, you are all amazing! I would love to hear what you thought of this one too, so why not leave a comment - it would make my day! ^.^ I'd also be super keen to answer any questions that I can (without spoilers). Stay awesome my buddies! ✲ﾟ｡.≧◠◡◠≦☆.｡₀:*ﾟ
> 
> If you'd like to support me, you can [check out my novel](https://www.kobo.com/nz/en/ebook/tea-in-the-outback) or [shout me a drink!](https://www.paypal.com/cgi-bin/webscr?cmd=_s-xclick&hosted_button_id=TT3Q6W95QFSM2) ^.^


	3. To Live In The Service Of The Syndicate, Join The Army...

“Hey Dean!” Sam grinned into his MD as he and Jordanial strode toward where the public shuttle had been granted special permission by the Jormyjr to land. Before they left, King Hermodr had offered that Sam was free to return to Norja or any other Jormyjr planet as an honoured guest whenever he wished, and that in itself was as much a reward as any.  
“Sammy! You survived then!”  
Sam could just about hear his grin. They would have holo-called each other, except that the Syndicate network didn’t exist on Norja and Sam didn’t have enough stand-alone data for that.  
“You have so little faith in me Dean.” Sam snorted, although they both knew the opposite was true. “How was the Captaincy run?”  
“Oh no, you first! First Class? Am I speaking with the next Skjorborn?” Dean pressed, and his eagerness just added to Sam’s awesome day.  
“Jeez, I hope not.” He grinned, but couldn’t keep his brother in suspense any longer. “But yeah. All the way man, Ambassador First Class.”

The second half of his sentence was drowned out by a whoop so loud he had to snatch his MD away from his ear while he walked.  
“I told you so, I told you so, didn’t I tell you Sammy?” Dean yelled into the phone and a warm glow fuzzed right down Sam’s broad chest.  
“Yeah. How about you?” If Dean was a Captain now, this day was officially the best day of his life, even better than losing his fucking virginity.  
“Yeah, I’m in a new relationship.” Dean smirked down the phone and Sam frowned for a second.  
“A new…?”  
“With my pride and beauty, my Impala!” Dean announced and Sam laughed at his brother’s silly ass.  
“Please tell me you became a Captain and aren’t just trying out mechnophilia.” He teased as the door to the underground landing chamber whirred open.  
“She’s mine Sam, and you should see her…black, shiny as a new born star horse, and she purrs like a cat…” Dean broke off into a love-struck sigh, and Sam grinned as he made his way alongside Jordanial toward the waiting ship. Ooh, he was gonna tease Dean about being like a little kid at Christmas over a battlecruiser till the day they died. His brother had gone over and over the schematics, ship blueprints and every battle tactic imaginable so much over the last year that Sam knew more about Battlecruisers than any self-respecting ambassador should. Hell, he could probably take one apart and put it back together.  
“Ya. I’m sure.” He smirked, but simply pulsed with happiness. Best day ever. “Anyway, I’m like 8 hours from Earth IV so – “  
“I’m at the Kreesal Station, which is only 3 hours away, right?” Dean interrupted as the shuttle master scanned his Syndicate Pass, which allowed free transport for official business. “Wanna come celebrate? Although…Dad might show up, so you might want to head off early.”

For once the thought didn’t make Sam cringe. He wanted to see Dad. He wanted Dad to see him and his triple dove insignia and see just how well Sam had done for not just himself but a whole race of people.  
“I’ll be there, Dean. We’re heading off though, so I’ll catch you later.” He turned off the device and wandered through the shuttle. It was packed, but there had to be two seats somewhere if the shuttlemaster had allowed them aboard.  
“Sam, here!” Jordanial called from a little further up. The Ambassador had strapped himself into a seat beside a huge brown-furred Kyreen, an alien that kind of reminded Sam of a praying mantis, but with more eyes and less green. The thing’s body wracked into a sputtering cough, so Sam made his way to the seat just a little further up with haste.  
“Don’t worry, it’s not contagious to humanoids.” The alien mumbled, then cleaned its furred face with two little arms attached to its jaw.

 

Apparently Jordanial didn’t class as the regular humanoid. They’d been shuttled back to an exploration ship this time, but one hour into the journey, Jordanial had broken out into some kind of fever and violent coughs, and half an hour after that he’d collapsed in the Medical Emergency Department of the ship. Sam couldn’t help but feel bad that Jordanial had to have such an awesome day ruined by random sickness, but there was nothing really he could do; the MED had put the Ambassador in quarantine until they knew what he had. But Exploration class ships were only second best to the military – they could handle it, Sam assured himself. Jordanial would recover.  
He leaned back against the wall of the guest quarters and played with the outline of the holochip on a chain around his neck. With an absent minded kind of habit, Sam flicked the image he knew so well on. He could remember that day so clearly. 

Dean had taken him out to pull some fresh vegetables from the back of their farmland to give Mom a rest. When they’d come back, the house had been a mangled, smoking mess of plasma-melted char. Oddly enough, it was the same type of droid that had brought their father to them that day that had just won Sam his case today. The projection of the pirate ship, all black curved and spikes, turned on its rotation cycle in its frozen cube of starry space, but didn’t mock him today – Sam hoped the Jormyjr found those pillaging bastards, went full beast and ripped them to shreds.

 

_Although it weighs on me, there is no time. I have given up too much and am unlikely to have such an opportunity again; therefore I must treat this as an emergency and do what I must, whatever the consequences. There is a bigger picture here, after all._

 

***

“Sammy!”  
Sam’s welcome off the public shuttle was to be literally tackled on to the ground by 200lbs of military Captain.  
“Jerk!” Sam wheezed and poked his big brother in the ribs. Thank goodness he didn’t get Classes every day or he’d have every bone in his body broken by now.  
“Bitch!” Dean yelped and sprang to his feet. He offered Sam a hand, which the younger Winchester took with a tolerant expression.  
“Y’know until now I’d had a very peaceful day.” He brushed off his loose t-shirt – although the white Ambassador robes were pretty easy to move in they could get a little heavy and Sam really didn’t want to look like Space Jesus everywhere he went.  
“Oh really?” Dean led the way off toward the hub of the space station, where all the malls, HoloRealities and more importantly (to Dean, at least) the bars.  
“Well, apart from the bit where I yelled shut up at two incredibly powerful alien monarchs, yeah.” Sam got the look of shock and then the full-bellied laugh he’d expected as Dean clapped him on the back.  
“C’mon, the troops are having a party down at The Drunken Donkey. I’m sure they’d love to hear how you Space Jesused the shit out of the Jormyjl.” He grinned and Sam nodded. Dean’s closer friends were better than most military assholes – although Dean could be as tolerant and outwardly warm to most, he usually stuck with the best of them.  
“The Jormyjr.” Sam corrected as they walked. “Jormyjl is singular, collective plural is Jormyjr.”  
“Wow, you are such a nerd.” Dean patted him on the shoulder with a faux sympathetic expression, and got the usual bitchface in reply.

They wended through the myriad of lights, groups and stalls that made up the station’s night-life. It was around 7pm Standard Time, and now Sam was glad he’d been asleep for most of the way to Norja, or else he’d be pushing twelve hours straight. And twelve hours straight plus the heinous amount of whiskey Dean was probably going to shout him would have probably meant comatose Sam in about ten minutes flat. But the excitement of the day mustn’t have worn off yet, or maybe it was whatever Jormyjr hoodoo Queen Borghild had filled him with, because Sam didn’t even yawn as he walked and talked with Dean to the Drunken Donkey about his Captaincy Run.

True, it wasn’t the most classy place, secluded in the mid-low class area of the station, but it was the type they were both used to; shabby, relaxed, but reliable. When they’d lived in the outer reaches with Mom, they’d always stopped off at a backwater pub called The Roadhouse, run by a feisty blonde mother-daughter pair that didn’t give a shit if Dean paid them with credits from a card with somebody else’s name on it or that Sam was only twelve when he started drinking there. Although Mom hadn’t liked them drinking, she always said they had to learn about the real world before the real world learned about them. Sam had never quite made full sense of that phrase, but he guessed he’d never know now.

The doors swung open to a tepid heat and the murmured lull of content conversation, which was shattered by an obscene wolf-whistle from a packed table at the back. Dean’s friends, huh? Sam opted for the casual but cautious approach – even if they were Dean’s friends, a lot of military types didn’t take well to those who believed armies weren’t the answer.  
“Dean!” The ginger-haired whistle culprit bounced over to the pair of them, and Sam just stopped for a moment to take the place in; someone had very much taken the time to make this look like an Old Earth bar – faux wooden surfaces, vintage ‘cheap carpet’, pictures that didn’t move and warm lighting. In an odd way the knick-knacks, wear and tear and clutter soothed Sam, like Bobby’s house did – Bobby’s place felt like home with Mom had. Not a bare, modern apartment that Sam didn’t have enough possessions or money to fill, but somewhere that had gathered life and memories over years and years.  
“Charlie, Sam, my little bro; Sam, Charlie, my Head Techy.” Dean gestured between them, and Charlie beamed like she could light up the room with one smile.  
“Peace out, Sam!” Charlie pulled the peace sign with two fingers and he wondered whether she was making a pun or not.  
“Yeah, and you.” He smirked and nodded back.  
“I think the phrase you’re looking for is ‘And also with you, my child’, Space Jesus.” Dean grinned over Sam’s weary huff and pulled them both over to the table where at least six or seven people Sam didn’t recognize sat, and an eighth one stood with a bloodied towel wrapped around his hand. 

The man was so still and focussed on Dean that Sam wondered if he’d gone into a trance, and if he had, whether he’d notice if Sam looked at his wings more closely. That’s right – the dude had a pair of dull black wings that matched his hair and framed his pale, fine-boned face. It kinda made sense that he hadn’t sat down in the booth, as Sam was pretty sure it was impossible with wings like that.  
“Aw Cas, what happened to you?” Dean strode over to the shorter guy and grabbed the injured hand by the wrist. Well, Sam had seen enough of Dean around pretty-faced aliens to know where this guy’s dick was gonna end up in the next month or so.  
“I did not realize broken glass was so…sharp.” This Cas looked at his hand with more interest than anything.  
“God, you can be a dumbass sometimes.” Dean sighed with affection and patted the shorter man’s shoulder. “Speaking of dumbasses, this is my little brother Sam.”  
“Ya, the dumbass little brother who stopped his drunk older brother try and shave his legs with coffee foam and a laser toaster last month.” Sam raised an eyebrow at Dean, who squinted, then shrugged.  
“Touché.”  
“It is an honour to meet you Sam Winchester. Dean spoke of you with the utmost regard today.” Cas fixed him with his intense blue gaze, and Sam couldn’t help but wonder where he fit into the equation other than Dean’s seemingly in-built hot-alien-seeking device.  
“Good to meet you too, Cas. You are…” Sam trailed off, and Dean caught the attention of a waiter droid for more chairs.  
“I am Commander Castiel Serial Number 611212519 from the Syndicate Mid-Reaches Military Base on Porada Indama, Second in Command ranking aboard the Black Impala Battle Cruiser.” The guy rattled off, and Sam had to fight to keep his eyebrows in their natural resting position. He didn’t know what it was, but Cas didn’t look…Sam wanted to say ‘impure enough’ to be at that rank, but then again, Dean would probably take care of that. Or maybe it was because this military commander had underestimated a piece of glass after what had to be over ten years in the army. Eh, he didn’t know. Something just seemed a little off, but if Dean liked him and if they matched up in the compatibility tests, then Sam couldn’t argue.

“Yeah, but I still can’t get him to spill what species he is.” Dean passed Sam a chair and Cas a stool from the waiter droid, and the smaller guy frowned.  
“I am human apart from my wings, and I fear I will lose them too in the years to come.” He didn’t seem as upset as Sam would have been, just matter-of-fact. But now Sam looked at them a little closer, the feathers did seem a little ragged and lack-lustre as though the appendages were somehow tired.  
“If you’re human then how – “  
“Don’t ask him that, Sammy, unless you want his ‘sworn to secrecy speech’. Believe me, I’ve been there.” Dean sighed with an eye roll and turned to his friends. “Who wants a drink?”  
A cheer came from all of them, and Charlie hailed a waiter droid as Dean turned to Sam.  
“So tell us about how you put the Jormyjr armies out of a job.”

 

Strangely enough, all of Sam’s friends seemed intrigued about Sam’s story, and even begged him to get out his insignia and show them. That being said, Sam did edit the account in parts – hell no was he going to tell around ten high ranking military officers how he’d hacked and stolen information from their file system. Instead he recounted that Jormyjr technology had captured the event. He also left out how Queen Borghild had ‘read’ him at the end of the meeting. For some strange reason, that felt oddly personal, even taboo to talk about without full understanding of exactly what the custom meant and how much of a momentous place it had in their society.  
“Yeah so in fact, although the pirates started it, we kinda have them to thank for the best peace treaty the Jormyjr have had in hundreds of years.” Sam finished, and surprised himself; he never thought he’d be thanking the pirates for anything.  
“Did you say pirates?” Charlie spun back into her seat with about six drinks in her hands – it was probably only the safety shields on the glasses that kept liquid inside. “Arr, now I’ll tell ye a tale of pirates!”

She slid the glasses to those who’d ordered, including Sam – hey, he had a sweet spot for Goradian Amber Nectar, which wasn’t sold at most places due to its acquired taste.  
“Aye, they be led by the dread Pirate King Lucifer in a ship so inescapable to any captive he might take that they call it The Cage!” She held her arms up for silence. Usually Sam or Dean would try and direct the conversation away from piracy, as they both got touchy on the subject, but Sam had always been a happy drunk and Charlie looked like she was having fun, so he let it slide.  
“Not _the_ Lucifer, as in the mythological being?” Castiel tilted his head with laser-sharp interest, even after Dean-induced shots. Human Sam’s frickin ass.  
“Oh aye, Castiel, aye, they say he sold his soul to the Devil, and in return the Devil gave him a ship impossible to catch, and success in spreading evil and corruption wherever he sails.” Charlie finished with a dramatic eyebrow flourish and Cas frowned but didn’t say anything more.  
“I heard he tears his victims apart with his bare hands and that the surface of The Cage can’t be seen under the effigies of limbs and skins.” An officer across from Sam said in a mock horror whisper. “That his eyes glow red with fire and his tongue is forked.”  
They flickered their tongue in a very drunk kind of way and earned a smatter of giggles around the table.  
“I heard that he impales his victims for days and days, and then when you’re on the brink of death, roasts you and eats you alive, no matter what race you are!” A Felidae grinned around the table at everyone with sharp teeth. 

“Aye, he’s a cruel, cruel creature they say! He and his motley crew will do the unspeakable just because they can.” Charlie cut back in with her hearty pirate impression that everyone knew she’d just learned from remakes of old, old, exaggerated pirate films. There was no way ancient people had spoken like that. “Only a few have looked upon Lucifer and lived to tell the tale!”  
“I don’t know about any of those rumours,” Dean grumbled from beside her. “But I do know that he’s like damn smoke – you can never catch him or any of his fleet. He’s never where you expect him to be and always two steps ahead. Their ships are so small and light, they’re hard to track. They hit hard and fast, then vanish like they were never frickin there. I’d be damn surprised if he hadn’t done a deal with the Devil, honestly.”

It was a little side venture both he and Sam did together – mapped where the more notorious pirate ships appeared, tracked any signs, tried to predict where they would pop up next and what they would do. But the attacks were always too random, too sudden and too brutal; every ship in Lucifer’s fleet flew the red field. That was how their attacks could be told from other, lower-class brand of pirate (who seemed to work under Lucifer’s orders, but never had any information about him): there were no survivors. No man, woman, child or anything around or in between was ever left alive, even a mother whose kids had gone out for food and had looked up at the wrong time.  
The only records they had were captured by machines. Sam didn’t know where the stories even came from other than fabrication. ‘Lucifer’ might not even exist for all he knew – had anyone ever had a first-hand account with him?

Sam was snapped out of his hazy thoughts as a familiar, broad-shouldered shadow loomed behind his brother.  
“Dean! How’s my favourite boy doing?” Dad clapped Dean on the shoulder, and the rest of the officers present scrambled to make themselves a little more presentable. Sam didn’t. He’d be lucky if John even acknowledged his existence. Dean shot an apologetic glance at Sam, then stood to give his old man a handshake. Sam’s drink tasted dull in his mouth, and the room suddenly seemed too cloyed and warm. No. No, Sam. He wasn’t going to let Dad ruin the victories of his day.  
“I’m doing well, sir. Commission and ship successfully attained.” It was a testament to Dad’s bad temper that Dean used military honorifics even when tipsy. “And Sam is a First Class Ambassador as of today.”

Sam tensed with surprise; Dean had just praised him in front of other military officers, and now John had no choice but to keep up his image and be tolerant, even proud of his disappointment of a son too. He hated to think how much of a berate Dean would get later, but straightened in defiance under John’s gaze. The triple dove insignia seemed heavy against his skin, where Dean had made him pin it on his shirt. Ah.  
Dean had planned this. Dean had used his conniving, strategic mind to try and show his father how proud he should be of Sam, and warmth from the gesture, no matter how hopeless heated him to the core.  
“Yes, I heard. Very well done son.” John gave a curt nod and his words held only carefully placed recognition. Then he turned back to Dean and continued as if nothing had happened, but it was enough. It was enough to know that John knew Sam had proved him wrong, and against all odds become the highest class of Ambassador there was. “Now Dean, there are some very interesting Captaincy initiation traditions I’m sure all your friends know about…”  
“Oh yes, of course!” Charlie blurted out and smacked the table in excitement, then checked herself. “I mean, affirmative sir.”  
“Then I’ll leave you kids to it then.” Dad smiled and, with one last look of pride at Dean headed back towards the faux-vintage batwing doors.  
“C’mon Dean – and you too Cas! – I brought everything with me…” Charlie hauled up a bag, then gestured at the rest of the patrons in the bar. “C’mon, I’m sure they’d love to join in – hell, they’re probably expecting it!”

 

And so Sam found himself fifteen minutes later at the back of a crowd of rowdy but happy aliens, watching Dean sing the Ancient Rock song Heat of the Moment with a holosimulation of the original band behind him. Ancient Classic Rock did have some good riffs, but nobody really understood half of what the words meant anymore unless they studied it, and even good riffs couldn’t save it when Dean had played his coveted collection to Sam for about the seven millionth time. So he reclined at the back with a smirk, as Dean so obviously sang at Castiel, who looked generally lost in the whole situation.  
“Can I tempt you?” A musical voice piped up beside him, and Sam looked down to see a bottle presented to him. Then he stopped for a moment as he saw the owner – to say she was pretty would be an understatement. Peacock colours of blue, purple and green shifted across her skin like oil, and her eyes seemed to have captured the sunset.  
“Er yeah, yeah sure.” He took the drink even though he was probably more drunk than he should be and smiled across at her.  
“You’re Sam, aren’t you? The Ambassador?” Her eyes trailed down his chest toward the insignia in a way that could have been innocent, but with his system happy and abuzz with alcohol, he wasn’t sure he really wanted it to be.  
“Yeah, that’s me, though I usually just get ‘Dean’s little brother’ and that’s if I’m lucky.” He gave a little snigger and took a swig of the drink as she moved a little closer.  
“I’ve never seen a First Class Ambassador insignia before…” She reached forward an elegant hand, picked out by a web of tiny clear gems on silver threads. “Can I touch it?”

The low-lidded look that came with the sentence screamed that she wanted to touch a bit more than just his crest, and heat coiled down his stomach at the thought. He hadn’t had a relationship or even a non-simulated fuck in so long, way too long; she was gorgeous and coming on strong, she seemed to find him hot and his dick agreed that they totally wanted to go there. As Dean would say, ‘Yahtzee’. So he took another swig and shot her a smirk to tell her he knew exactly what was going on here.  
“Yeah, sure.”

Those fingers brushed the gold with an erotic kind of care, then her palm pressed against his pec and he could _feel_ her. Her want, her desire and something else, something colder and distant… An empath. He’d fucking struck gold here. Sam wasn’t sure if it was the drink or the touch, or perhaps the exhaustion of the day finally catching up, but the world swam for a moment.  
“What about we take this out back, peace-keeper.” She slid the hand that buzzed with ionic energy into his free one, and all of a sudden the music seemed dim and far away. He could feel his legs move, but only carried him to the end of the bar before one knee buckled and he had to catch himself.  
“What…” He blinked as his tongue felt heavy around the words. Shit. Shit, shit, shit! A shock of panic lanced up his chest as that hand tightened on his and dragged him toward the back door. She’d drugged him, or poisoned him or latched onto his mind…fuck, he’d been so careless! 

Sam’s heart thudded, sick and loud in his head with dread and helplessness. Despite being 250 lbs of tall, muscular human, he felt like jelly, or like the dead husk of a ship being dragged behind a tow.   
“N…stop, no, nn…” His slur was barely above a murmur, and his throat choked with desperation. Couldn’t Dean notice, couldn’t one of his friends turn and see…  
Breath caught in his throat as he tried to pull back, tried to fight and scream with every ounce of strength in him, and he panted hard at just the attempt. Then his lungs just stopped dead, Sam could hardly see, and the last thing he remembered before he slumped to the ground was the wash of cooler air as the door opened and a distant, gruff voice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooh hoohoo, things are gettin' exciting! ;) If y'all have been holding out for Lucifer, we'll get to meet him next chapter n.n As always, I'd love to hear what you thought of the chapter, or any predictions you might make - your comments always make my day ♥ I do put a lot of time and effort into my writing, so if you're feeling _really_ generous, why not [shout me a drink?](https://www.paypal.com/cgi-bin/webscr?cmd=_s-xclick&hosted_button_id=TT3Q6W95QFSM2) ヽ(๑◠ܫ◠๑)ﾉ Anyhoo, I hope you enjoyed the chapter (writing Dean and Sam has been a lot of fun for me tbh); stay awesome my buddies, and happy new year! Here's to a good one. (=ﾟωﾟ)っ∠※ Kaboom!
> 
> If you'd like to support me, you can [check out my novel!](https://www.kobo.com/nz/en/ebook/tea-in-the-outback) ^.^


	4. Fate Deals Its Own Hand

“Camouflage to 4th Class Cortoley merchant ship, helm.” Lucifer ordered as he ran over a report on his custom made MD, one leg draped over the arm of the Captain’s Seat with his device propped up against it.  
“Camouflage on, sire.” The D shift coxswain Ruby confirmed and the visual screen took on a sheen of blue for a second, then the interior of the bridge melted into the typical tan and cream appearance of a Cortoley Merchant vessel to match the exterior changes.  
“Crowley, call the Jewelled Trading Citadel and get us admission.” Lucifer didn’t even need to suggest a desirable strategy to his First Officer. Crowley could bargain candy from a baby, never mind a money-grubbing greed pit like this one. That they had to come here at all was a pain. The Syndicate had taken to desperate measures: Lucifer's latest prize, the latest Syndicate weapon-carriers to Pjantra, had fired off an EMP built especially to target the program chips in his cargo and raid slaves and effectively killed them all. It had been a pathetic attempt at escape, and ended up the way their raids always did – with The Cage’s belly full of Syndicate weapons and the Syndicate bereft of another set of ships and crew. True, this time he’d lost all his slaves, but he could always buy more, especially with the several million credits their spy in the Syndicate had hacked out of the system just yesterday. She’d have to change her technology and appearance again, but Bella was the best at what she did. He could rely on her to survive. And this time, Lucifer would get his Tech Lab to add specialized shielding nanos to every slave, because purchasing in bulk again would be risky in case the Syndicate somehow tracked the buy. But he couldn’t wait – The Cage couldn’t take heavy lifting equipment or dense, mechanized systems, so slaves were the only option, and right now he had no-one to work the cargo hold or be the Forlorn Hope in assaults.

Lucifer checked over Crowley’s list of what they needed here, but even if he bought the best quality Golems, droids and Cayera Scarabs, it would hardly make a dent in what Bella had endowed them with. Good, good. He could send half of the funds to Admiral Lilith to distribute as was needed amongst the other ships, and keep half in reserve in case of catastrophe or a dry spell.  
“Admission granted, sire.” Crowley reported, and Lucifer tapped his lip for a moment. Then he closed his eyes and opened his awareness to the rest of the ship, every one of his crew wherever they may be or whatever they were doing.  
_My little stormclouds. You will get 24hrs at The Jewelled Trading Citadel. We are Cortoley merchants, stocking up for our trade route to Kamazuko, so dress accordingly._ Lucifer didn’t need to add not to jeopardize their whereabouts. His crew knew better.  
“Crowley, you will accompany me to the Ninth Level once we have docked. Ruby take us in.” He unfolded himself from the chair, and the door slid in triangular chunks back to the corners of the frame to reveal the corridor beyond. As much as his crew deserved a break, they all knew the dangers of staying in one place for too long – the sooner they got this over with, the better.

  


The Ninth Level of the Jewelled Trade Citadel always reminded Lucifer of a laboratory – each slave was suspended in a Preservation Tube, arranged however was appropriate for their species and category. The Golems were set up as usual – deactivated and standing like rocks in the centre of their containment so that the customer could view the product from all angles, check for cracks or wear and even move their limbs with the interactive interface of the Tube. With any other Trade Centre, Lucifer might have given the products more than a lazy perception scan, but the Jewelled Citadel had a reputation in the underground as one of the most reputable slavers this side of the galaxy. And very little escaped Crowley’s keen eye, so when his First Officer moved from Scarabs on to droids, Lucifer just left him to it – Crowley was a fantastic officer to have around in the way that he loved to read the fine print and pour over the manuals. True, Lucifer could tell him everything he needed to know about every one of them, but the care, the scrupulousness and the finesse Crowley poured into it gave Lucifer just a little bit more confidence that he would get what he paid for.

“Venerable Nick.” The black-hooded assistant seemed to have seen him browse through the rows and rows of Golem without paying them much attention and sidled toward him. “Perhaps you would like to take a look at a wider range of our products. We have servants for every occasion and to please every being! Fighters, perhaps, mercenaries, or indulgencies, treats from all over the galaxy for your pleasure!”  
The assistant offered him a brochure, and Lucifer didn’t see why not – Crowley would be hours negotiating and testing the products, and it wasn’t as though he was short on credits.  
“We even had some Special Items, shipped in today by the best quality dealers.” The yellow, multi-eyed alien clapped their hands, and Lucifer considered it with a small smirk. Special Items meant that the traders had no idea which category to put the merchandise in, so sold it at a higher price as ‘special’. 

They passed through the stark white light of the Heavy Duty Work area into the Show and Pleasure rows.  
“Here you have the simple servants for waiting on you hand and foot, chauffeurs, pretty little things to stand like statues in your quarters or gardens – those come with their Tubes of course…” The assistant continued, and Lucifer eyed the bodies on display with no more than a casual interest. They were arranged in a variety of positions and costumes – here was a Corbalt, dressed in a sharp tuxedo with a serving dish in one of his elegant hands. There, a Porgamit, beings with skin like marble, arranged into a well-balanced contrapposto. But these sort of buys were for the rich and luxurious, not for pirates, and Lucifer had no interest in indulgencies. True, it would take a little of the workload off him if he had even a droid to have his food prepared and small things like that, because after a 16 hr shift often sleep became the priority and eating took the back seat, two things that Lucifer still hadn’t quite become used to. But a servant wasn’t something he _needed._  
“And here we have anything for your fantasies, Venerable Nick! Halfcast and quartcast Telphousa maidens from the sirens in the stars themselves, Morphimagi to satisfy all you darkest cravings…” The assistant waved at the Tubes around them, and Lucifer cocked his head with interest here and there. He hadn’t taken a mate in hundreds of years, but that was normal. The quick gratification of pleasure wasn’t something his race really got worked up over like the short-lived races did, but he seemed to remember it was fun. Others of his species might disagree, but they were stuck up assholes anyway.

The short, brown-robed assistant led him into a room that adjoined the warehouse they had been browsing. This place reminded Lucifer of a gallery more than anything else – the walls glowed with gentle white light, and the ceiling dropped to normal height instead of the space outside, which stretched upward, filled with ducts and wires for the Preservation Tubes. Each slave in here had been catered to for their individual features rather than the typical category setup. It didn’t make the products any more useful, but it was interesting what they’d managed to pick up as ‘special’.  
“A Cagelton Cat!” The Assistant brought him over to one of the Tubes wherein a great, broad-backed feline was arranged to look proud on a spur of rock. “Have it as your guard, your pet, your fighting champion – as with all special items, this Cat doesn’t just serve one purpose, Venerable Nick!”  
“I don’t have room or food resources to feed such an animal on board my ship.” Lucifer smirked, and wandered around a feature wall with smaller tubes that held a few tiny specimen on it. Behind the wall, the room dipped into a curve so that the end was rounded off, and five Tubes stood in a semicircle around the door that led through to the next gallery. The assistant seemed to be saying something, but Lucifer wasn’t paying attention. The second Tube on the left, the one that took up two spaces instead of one…some lascivious attendant had taken a great deal of care to arrange the creature inside to border on divine. Fuck. A dark murmur of lust pushed up Lucifer’s belly and chest, more than any of the sex slaves in their skint costumes and lewd positions had. It took him by surprise for a moment, how sudden the sensation clicked in, like the sight before him fanned the coals of a dormant spark.

The man was naked apart from a silken white cloth that pooled in his groin and slipped over the thigh furthest from Lucifer’s view as he sprawled across a backless couch. It left his defined hip-bone bare, so that the line of skin from his temple to his bent knee and bare toes was unbroken. One arm hung off the triclinium as though the youth had just fallen asleep like this, although who would ever doze with a sheen of oil across their muscles, and their head tipped back in the kind of way that looked like they were just coming down from the high of orgasm? The thought plunged straight to Lucifer’s groin with a heat he just wasn’t used to. Fuck. This was dangerous. He could taste the thirst and lewd desire on his tongue, and although Lucifer was used to these attributes in others, in himself they were a weakness. But damn that poison looked delicious.

“Beautiful, isn’t he?” The assistant put on a hushed murmur as they both took in the physique draped in front of them. “Could have been sculpted by the goddess herself.”  
“His info?” Lucifer knew he shouldn’t, knew he should just turn and walk away…instead he paced closer to the Tube, cock hot and already half-hard in his leather pants. Soft brown hair cushioned the handsome man’s head, and Lucifer wanted to tangle his fingers into it, pull it as the alien cried out with pleasure. Shit, this was all going too far. But it was almost as if he wanted to test himself – how far would he go? Buy this creature? Program him to slake his lust in any way he wanted, any way that took his whim?  
“Look at his beauty!” The assistant insisted. “His strong jaw, perfect form – “  
“If that’s all he had, you would be selling him as a display piece or sex slave.” Lucifer interrupted, impatient, and the assistant seemed to gather from his cold look that he did not want to be messed around.  
“Well, this slave is very intelligent – our scans show he has skills with coding and piloting, and with that body comes strength, so he can withstand hard work. He’s pre-chipped like all our slaves, very easy to program.” The assistant scanned his MD, and a disappointed suspicion crept over Lucifer as the seller left his species out. That usually meant one thing. “And because you’re buying in bulk today, I’ll give him to you for a discount, Venerable Nick! Only one thousand credits for this temptuous creature!”  
And that was far too cheap, which just confirmed Lucifer’s suspicions. “He’s human, isn’t he.”  
The assistant opened their mouth in surprise. “No, no, of course – “  
“Don’t lie to me.” Lucifer snapped, because even so, he was still half seduced by the thought. “Now why in the name of the Universe would you sell a damn human?”

Everybody knew humans made the worst slaves. At first, other races had seen them as a gift – hardy, adaptable, fast learners, easy anatomy to program, simple organisms but very effective at most things. But that’s what made them bad slaves – their determination, their hardiness, their adaptability, their inability to accept captivity to the point where they killed themselves to prove their stubbornness. Every mass human-slave organization had turned into revolt and been torn down to dust. It wasn’t a coincidence that humans, or humanoids, were now the most predominant species in the galaxy.

“Well, they have a lot of benefits, Venerable Nick!” The assistant blustered. “They can withstand extreme stress, even loss of limbs and do not die! They are not poisonous or corrosive to most buyers, they are on heat every day of every calendar, and if he does not work out for you, then human meat is considered a delicacy in many places.”  
That was true – human meat sold for hundreds of credits a pound, although if you were caught selling or buying, the penalty was death. Lucifer knew for a fact he had a dead or alive target on his back, so it wouldn’t make a difference. Although… his eyes caught on the bronzed swells and planes of muscle again, and those soft, relaxed lips. It would be such a shame to just dice this man up and sell his meat on the fringes, which was probably what any other buyer would do when they learned he was human. That was the smart option. Damn.  
“What’s his temperament?” Lucifer sighed, already sure he’d taken this further than he needed. It’d be a lie to say he was even considering this buy out of the goodness of his heart. The ache in his groin which he hadn’t felt for years was testament to that.  
“He is human, sir! They change so much that it is difficult to tell…” The assistant trailed off at Lucifer’s glare, and he wasn’t even trying to scare them yet.  
“Stop floundering. You can estimate.”  
“Well…logical and witty, we think but – “  
“Smart and feisty then. Fantastic.” Lucifer sighed, but still didn’t turn away. His crew, even Crowley, practically worshipped him, which was exactly how it should be. But that left him as a lone, untouchable king who no-one even dared speak to unless they had good reason. A lone, bored king half the time. Perhaps a ‘logical and witty’ human might provide him with some entertainment. 

True, as this slave was human, it was unlikely that Lucifer would be able to satisfy this unusual, formidable lust within him unless he forced it, or unless the man was already a willing whore. Hm. He’d see. There was always the meat markets if things did go south. And this pretty creature could take care of the little annoying chores that chipped into his sleeping time too – to be honest, sleep was almost worth more than credits to a ship captain.  
“I’ll give you three hundred for him.” Lucifer crossed his arms and ignored the voice, which oddly enough manifested as Crowley, that told him this was a waste of Bella’s hard-earned funds.  
“Three hundred!? Venerable Nick, that is – “ The assistant sputtered, but they both knew that this was a one-off deal. Who else would be crazy enough to buy a human, even for the meat at risk of a death penalty?  
“Yes, overpriced for a human, isn’t it. Maybe I should offer less.” Lucifer huffed and fixed the alien with a cold stare.  
“No, no, of course, of course, Venerable one.” The assistant gave a short bow with a nervous flick of its three white eyes. “I will have him packaged and arranged for transport immediately.”  
“Pleasure doing business with you.” Lucifer cast one last glance at the human in the Tube, and another throb of desire coiled through his chest at the sight of those long, elegant limbs and handsome face.  
“I must be crazy.” The Pirate King muttered, and turned to head back out into the warehouse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lucifer's here! Super interested to hear what y'all thought of this one - comments always make my day! ^.^ Thanks to everyone who has already left comments and kudos, y'all are legends and ily ♥ Stay awesome my buddies, I know you will! (ﾉ´ヮ´)ﾉ*: ･ﾟ
> 
> If you'd like to support me, you can [check out my novel](https://www.kobo.com/nz/en/ebook/tea-in-the-outback) or [shout me a drink!](https://www.paypal.com/cgi-bin/webscr?cmd=_s-xclick&hosted_button_id=TT3Q6W95QFSM2) ^.^


	5. The Game of Lies

Darkness. Footsteps. Metal. A heartbeat. Breath. Something cool pressed against his skin.  
Sam didn’t dare move, didn’t dare open his eyes. He…he couldn’t remember…  
Noise. Loud, drunken and happy. He could see Dean’s face…singing. Sam focussed on his breath. Something…it had been hard. Breathing had been hard. Somewhere along the line his lungs had stopped. But now they worked. Her face…a face. With eyes like the sunset.  
The coolness on his thigh and side pressed into his thoughts.  
She’d led him away…he’d…he’d been drugged. Had to be. If it’d been poison, he wouldn’t be able to hear his breath again. After that there was nothing. A great big span of black.  
There was something wrong about that coolness against his skin.  
Something…  
_Against his skin._ The sudden knowledge forced him to focus on his heavy lids. They lagged on him, weighed down and sluggish. 

First it was blotches. Grey. Grey and black. The tan of his bare arm stretched in front of him. Brown beyond the grey.  
The coolness pressed against his bare thighs, side and arms, but not his hip. God, what had happened to him? What had she done to him, fuck… he did a mental check across his body, and didn’t feel any pain like organ removal or something to suggest violation. He couldn’t remember. Sam gritted his teeth against any helpless noise that might try and betray his despair, and focussed on what he could see instead. The grey had focussed into a criss-cross of bars. A cage. Next to what seemed like more cages, or holding pens. Beyond that, darkness stretched to a line of sudden light. He didn’t have to be a ship’s Captain to recognize a cargo hold out there.

With a slow movement, he drew himself up onto his knees. Material rode up around his thighs – he’d been left in a pair of brown leather shorts, but not decent enough to be really called clothes. Sam’s skin began to shiver, even though the cargo hold wasn’t cold. Something had happened to him. Someone had – had drugged him, stripped him and put him…here, wherever this was.  
The younger Winchester ran an unsteady hand through his long hair and froze. There. Behind his right ear. Instead of smooth skin, it bulged up into a square raise. A chip. Shit, he’d been chipped, and that meant one thing. Ownership. And ownership meant slavery. He’d been sold as a fucking slave. That didn’t happen though. Not in reality. Body snatchers were other people’s distant horror stories not…not a reality. Not…fuck!

Sam pressed a hand against his mouth to try and stop his breath coming too fast. No. No, he wasn’t going to let fear or any other fucking thing control him, let alone whoever thought they owned him. In a stupid fit of defiance, Sam dug his fingernails into the skin around the chip. An immediate blaze of agony lanced through him with such violence that it threw his body into helpless convulsions and his scream echoed around the hold.  
“Shit, shit…” Sam panted and swallowed as he wiped his watering eyes. It was in his nervous system. Which meant its programming would be directed into his nervous system and…no, fuck.  
“Hey!” He suddenly clicked that the beige in the next pen was a creature of some sort. “Hey, can you hear me?”  
Sam hit the side of his cage and gasped in pain as an electric shock zapped up his arm. Wherever he was, they didn’t skip precautions with security.

The pad of boots interrupted his thoughts as he tried to rub life back into his arm, and the owner squatted down in front of him with an evil grin all framed in bloodred lipstick. What appeared to be a wicked flail hung from one hand, and her orange hair looked like fire against the black leather of her jacket.  
“Oh look. The Captain’s little pet has woken up.” She clucked like a child might do to a horse, but Sam didn’t move an inch, other than to throw her a look of disgust. “I don’t know what he was thinking when he bought a human but, you know…the lord works in mysterious ways.”  
The woman raised her eyes to the ceiling as if someone could hear her.  
“Let me go, whoever you are.” Sam spat, but it was undermined by the shiver that ran through his all but naked body. “If it’s credits you want, I can get them.”  
“And I thought you were meant to be intelligent. What I want… _whore_ ,” The woman grinned as she noticed him flinch at the word. He’d kill himself before he became that kind of slave. “Is to strip that pretty skin off your bones. I’m sure I’ll get the chance when the Captain gets bored of his plaything.”  
Sound chirped in her earpiece, and she gave another wide grin. “Duty calls, boytoy.”  
“How about you kiss my ass, bitch.” He drew on the only thing that could give him strength here – Dean. Dean would find him like he always did when he got in trouble. Dean would come for him with a fleet of Battlecruisers and decimate wherever the fuck this was. Until then, he could do what Dean did when life kicked him in the teeth – tell life to fuck itself and kick it right back.  
“Keep it up, whore. I’ll just enjoy killing you all the more.” The bitch smirked and tapped something on her MD. There was a shift of metal, and something heavier, and then Sam saw why his neighbour hadn’t responded. It was a Golem – programmable biological organisms, who’d been used by the Yawhs for hundreds of years before the humans came along and commercialized them. Of course, all slavery was illegal, but the authorities didn’t see Golems as slaves half the time, as they weren’t able to function without a master or instructions. So much for escape through teamwork.

  
Sam watched for the ten minutes his captor took to send their program info to the chips. His pen was bare, so he had nothing to defend himself with other than his military and Ambassador self-defence training. And by hell was he going to try, even just to test her strength. So as soon as she turned to him with that ugly grin, Sam let himself be yanked to his feet, then used the momentum to ram two quick punches into the woman’s ribs. The shocked, glottal gasp that left her lips was the best thing he’d heard all day, and he didn’t even give her a chance to recover. Sam twisted the arm she had a hold on until he heard a sick snap, then flung her straight over his shoulder and into the edge of his cage with a grisly thud.

To his horror, the woman’s arm crackled, then popped back into place, and when she rose to face him, she wasn’t smiling anymore. He expected a punch. Hell, he expected her to pick up her flail and try to end him with it. Instead she just pressed a button on her MD and that was it. Sam’s muscles just seemed to turn to jelly and he hit the deck like a sack of potatoes. The chip had just collapsed his system, and fuck he wanted to scream it made him feel so helpless. But it appeared that no matter how much the slave-driver wanted to kill him, even this violent bitch didn’t dare disobey her orders.

“You’re lucky the Captain likes your pretty face, whore, or I would break it.” The woman sneered at him, but Sam could barely even turn to glare at her in defiance. She unclipped a set of electropulse restraints from her belt and snapped them over his hands. Lucky Mom had taught them how to remove this type, but Sam needed some kind of metal object for that. The slave-driver tapped her MD again, and before Sam even realized he had movement back, she dragged him to his feet.  
“I hope he makes you bleed, whore, I hope he makes you beg for death.” She growled in his ear and shoved him toward the cargo bay where the Golems had already trooped into, but he only got a glance before he was shoved into a corridor. A flitter of fear spread out through Sam’s chest, and bile burned his throat at what she implied. He couldn’t, he couldn’t, he couldn’t accept what might happen to him in the next few minutes, so he just gritted his teeth and kept an eye out for anything he could snatch up to free himself. As if that would do him much good.  
“Whoo!” Another one of the crew whistled. “Would ya look at the ass on that!”  
More passers-by joined in, if not vocally, just to run their eyes over him.

A sick burn crept up Sam’s cheeks, but he didn’t drop his head. He just kept his gaze fixed in front of him under the stares and catcalls. He wasn’t too insecure about his body, it was just the way he was forced to be put on display like some kind of show animal that made him want to curl up in a dark corner and pray he never be looked at again. At least none of them touched him, but Sam had a feeling the Captain was to do with that. Even on Battlecruisers and Exploration ships, he’d never seen a crew so obedient, even in the few minutes he’d been among them – if he’d smacked a Syndicate jailor, they would have beaten him to a pulp no matter what the Captain had ordered. They took an empty lift to the next level, and Sam tried to calm himself by memorizing their path, the look of the interior of the ship, the appearance of the crew. They all appeared human, which was odd. Not just humanoid but human. Well, Sam would hate to call the red-headed bitch who pushed him out into the next corridor human, but he couldn’t see traits of any other species on her. 

They came to the end of the long hallway in a stony silence, turned left, then right toward a door with no other doors around it. It didn’t take a top percentage IQ to figure out that this was the captain’s quarters.  
“Get in and wait.” The slave driver held her MD up to the side of the door, and it slid open in two chucks of triangle to the corners without a sound. “I’d stay standing while you still can if I were you.”  
He didn’t even get time to tell her to go fuck herself before she pushed him inside, and even if he had, the sight left him speechless for a moment.

Sam had seen big quarters. He’d seen his Dad’s Armada Admiral quarters, fixed with a joint HoloReality and top class Mood Systems. But this…the Captain must have removed anything from every deck above his room so that the ceiling stretched up to what must have been the height of the entire ship, minus the engine floor they’d come up from. There were no decorations or decks or anything, just a huge swath of open air above the floor space with some pieces of strut and pipes here and there. At least the ground was a little more conventional, but still more open plan than what Sam was used to – it was much bigger than his luxury apartment that was for sure. These quarters were more like a massive warehouse room with the bare minimum of furniture scattered across it; the floor was uncarpeted metal, cool under Sam’s bare feet. Straight in front of him sat a square black couch that seemed to be made of a soft material, set up with a coffee table. To his left a little stood a long, plain table in the centre of the room, with one hard metal chair. The table seemed far too long for one person, but there weren’t enough seats for more. Beyond the table…Sam swallowed as his eyes caught on the bed, and he quickly looked away. No, the back of the metal chair would work to break these restraints, and if he could break them…what then, huh Sam? He didn’t even know the layout of the ship, never mind where escape pods or weapons were. And the slave driver at least had seemed unaffected by his blows…

There was a shift of footsteps behind him, and a sudden jolt of fear lanced through the ambassador, so strong that when he turned around, his muscles locked up. No, he wasn’t going to be scared, he wasn’t going to give this bastard the pleasure. So Sam grasped for that fire, like the one he’d felt with the Jormjyr, fed it until it lapped up his stomach and burned defiance in his eyes as he took in the man before him.  
“Let me go, you sick fuck.” Sam snarled to cover any remaining vestige of weakness. “Only a pathetic excuse for a life form has slaves, but you don’t have a shred of decency in you! I bet this room is so big just to fit your ego.”  
He could have gone for the ‘placated slave’ technique to get the element of surprise, but he was just too angry, like he always got with John. Though this time he hoped the Captain would toss him in the brig or hospitalize him so he wouldn’t have to endure whatever sick fantasies this bastard had in store.  
“You done?” The older, blonde man crossed his arm with raised eyebrows. He didn’t sound angry. Just like a patient parent with a child.  
“No!” Sam took the opportunity and tried to use his spare one or two inches over the man to bear down on him. “Is this some kind of joke to you, whoever the hell you are?”  
The Captain considered him for a moment with his low-lidded eyes. Even though the man’s expression was neutral, something lurked behind them, something cold and intelligent that had goosebumps prick up on his bare arms.  
“They call me Lucifer.”

The words seemed to ring for a second in the space or in Sam’s head, he wasn’t sure. No. Part of him was convinced he’d wake up all of a sudden, passed out in a hotel Dean had dragged his comatosed ass into, and they’d all laugh about the creepy dream Sam’d had about cages and slavery. It took a second for him to realize that he’d frozen in shock or terror, and that this was real. Every inch of his bare skin tingled and prickled, as if he were suddenly aware of how very, very naked and defenceless he was in front of a man known for his brutality.  
“Scared?” Lucifer smirked with his wide-bowed lips that always seemed to hold the ghost of a smirk anyway, and Sam swallowed his fear.  
“No.” But the hoarse edge on his voice betrayed him, and it took all his willpower not to hold his bound arms against his chest.  
“Y’know, I have to say, you live up to expectations 027.” Lucifer crinkled his nose a little and circled around to the side, but Sam turned to keep him in his sight. To be honest, the beast of the whispered tales didn’t look half as evil as the stories said – no red eyes, no forked tongue as far as Sam could tell, no instruments of torture…  
In a way that made it worse. At least that would have been straightforward. In all honesty, he had no idea what to expect from the middle aged, scruffy blonde human. The muscles in his arms displayed by his black leather vest promised strength at least equal to Sam’s, but other than that presence in his eyes, his exterior was like a smooth sheen of water that could harbour anything in its depths. And from the stories and hard proof, Sam didn’t want to find out.  
“Y’know, I’d rather not call you a number.” Lucifer tapped his lip and those ice blue eyes swept over Sam’s torso like an ambivalent buyer at a clothes store. “Give me your name 027, or I’ll think of something creative to call you.”  
“Sam.” The word dropped from his lips on reflexive instinct. “Sam…Singer.”

There was no doubt that if the pirate king discovered he was John Winchester’s son, he would kill him. An Armada Admiral’s son would be too much of a risk to have on board.  
“Hm. Sam.” Lucifer seemed pleased by his quick response, but the ambassador didn’t trust his warm smile for a second and kept his muscles hard wired for a fight. “Where are you from, Sam? What do you do for a living?”  
The questions threw him for a second – why the heck would Lucifer care? It was probably some sick game, but talking seemed to be delaying whatever was to come, and Sam would take any opportunity he could to stall.  
“I…worked in a scrapyard for repurposing spaceships. Two years ago I managed to convince my father to allow me entrance to the Syndicate militia.” Sam hadn’t got his Class by not being able to bluff. Lies always worked better with a grain of truth – it would be hard to conceal his Syndicate training if he denied connection to them at all.  
“Mmm, you’re certainly fit enough for a scrapyard.” There was a moment of silence as Lucifer held his eyes, and Sam could feel his jaw work, he was so tense. There was nothing about Lucifer that should make him so on edge – the Captain seemed relaxed, amiable, not unpleasant to look at, but the stories and the fact that he was enslaved to the man in them was enough. That and the intensity. Lucifer had presence, the kind that would command the attention of a hundred people, never mind one, but Sam was not-unused to conceited eminencies. He wouldn’t bow or scrape, and he would take the consequences of his defiance.  
“Now Sam, you can make this easy or hard.” Lucifer stepped forward, and Sam fought the urge to move back, just glared with as much hatred he could muster at the sandy blonde. This was it then. He couldn’t help but flinch as the Captain reached forward, but it was only to disengage his electropulse restraints with the magnetic key. “You will do the tasks I set you. Little tasks, not much. And when you’re not working, all you have to do is stand around and look pretty. Can you do that for me, Sammy?”

Although the request hadn’t included anything to do with physical sex, it was obvious from the trail of his eyes that the Captain wanted him. And he didn’t want to tempt that, not one bit.  
“I’d rather break my back working in the fucking cargohold than have you and your sick bastards look at me all day.” And with that, Sam did probably the second most stupid thing he’d ever done in his life, just beneath letting himself be drugged and sold into slavery; he spat right in the infamous Pirate King’s face.  
Lucifer’s look of surprise was worth it for a moment, but then he settled back into a mildly disappointed look as he wiped the spit off his cheek. Sam had to dig his fingernails into his palm to stop himself from trembling, but he didn’t give himself away.  
“Very well.” The Captain unclipped an MD from his leather belt. Beside it hung a hand gun, the type of which Sam didn’t recognize and a strange knife, whose sheath spun with strange decorations and symbols. The ambassador was a little stunned that Lucifer had actually agreed. Then Sam jumped back in shock as an LCD display screen lit up in front of his vision.  
“What the…” Sam blinked and shook his head, then realized it wasn’t projected from anything. It was _inside_ his vision. Fuck he hated chips, fucking hell.  
“Calm down, it’s not going to hurt you kiddo.” Lucifer said mildly, and a menu flew across the display, which seemed to be mirrored on the Captain’s MD. He dragged and dropped a colour coded pre-set list into the empty menu with a click Sam could hear inside his head. “Now that’s your timetable. For you the display is touch interactive, so just swipe, tap, whatever, and you can look at what you like. It switches on and off automatically when your job’s and done or starting, although you can voice command it on whenever you need.”

Sam didn’t even have time to browse over what he had to do as the thing snapped off. Fuck, he wanted to rip the chip out of his skin so much, but nails were far too blunt to take it out and it might black him out with agony it he tried anything else. Lucifer strode over to the side of the room thankfully without a bed and beckoned at him to follow.  
“Food and drink.” He pointed at a variant of Producer in the wall that Sam figured he could work. Lucifer then gestured at a doorway with no door in it that seemed to head into a corridor much brighter than the Captain’s dim quarters. “Bathroom, shower, whatever.”  
“Clothes?” Sam huffed, and Lucifer cocked his head as he looked up at him with calculative blue eyes.  
“Now why in the name of the Universe would I give you clothes, Sam.” Those low-lidded eyes dropped down him again, and the burn of both discomfort and anger at the way he’d been stripped of his most basic rights and had no way to even argue with it fizzled through him. “Oh, and you’ll be sleeping in my bed unless you want to sleep on the floor.”  
That wasn’t even a question.  
“I’d rather sleep on fucking broken glass than next to you.” Sam hissed, but again, Lucifer didn’t get angry or violent. Just calm and considerate which in a way seemed even more dangerous. Like a snake that stills before it’s ready to strike.  
“Hm.” A smirk tugged at his lip, and for some reason it made Sam feel even more angry. “You’ve got an hour to settle in before your programming starts, so make yourself at home. I wouldn’t resist it if I were you, but then again, you’re human so there’s no doubt you’ll try.”  
“You _programmed_ me?” Sam choked in red hot disbelief. “I have rights, you sick fuck! I’m not some droid you can just program!”  
“Now tell me truthfully Sammy,” Lucifer crossed his arms, and Sam hated the way he’d fallen into using that nickname. “If I didn’t program you, would you be a good boy and stay out of trouble and do your work?”  
Sam just glared, teeth all but fused together, he gritted them so hard. That was no fucking argument!  
“There you go. Now I have a ship to run, so I’ll see you when I see you.” With what was probably meant to be a friendly wink, Lucifer strode back toward the door and vanished into the light of the corridor.

Sam just stood there for a few long moments in the dim light as the rage drizzled out of his system and left him empty. His mind kind of went along with his body as he turned and sank down the wall, head in his hands, which shook. The panic, the fear, the gross discomfort all welled up inside him, and to his absolute disappointment in himself, he buried his face in the space between his knees and sobbed to the emptiness of his new prison. It was good to get it out, Sam supposed. To get the hot, quick breaths of anxiety out the way, to get the grief at what Dean must be going through out with tears, to get the horror of being a slave to the most wicked man alive, a man who slaughtered settlements without batting an eye, a man who was renowned for being malicious and violent beyond reason out through broken sobs. The man whose pirates had killed his mother.

It took ten minutes for him to calm down, but the release of emotions left him a little more steady. He could do this, Sam told himself. He was one of the top IQs in the Syndicate University Chain, and if he couldn’t escape this ship, then no-one could. He’d just have to bide his time for any opportunity, and in the meantime do the work Lucifer programmed him to do. Sam swallowed at the thought of what Lucifer might have included, so with a shaky voice, he called up the display and scanned the timetable.  
Cleaning, cargo work, food…nothing to do with sex. That didn’t mean the lecherous Captain wouldn’t try, but Sam would fight him tooth and nail if he did. There was another thing he noted – the date. He’d been out for a week. Just like that, a week of his life was just gone. He took a breath again and clenched his fists. Ok, Sam, c’mon. He could do this. Dean would look for him, and even Dad would help because he wasn’t _that_ at odds with Sam that he’d leave him to his fate in the dark underworld of space. Besides, they were both already on the hunt for The Cage anyway. He just had to survive until the Syndicate Armada came.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that's Sam's first experience aboard The Cage...don't worry, the more they get to know each other, the sassier they'll get :P Lucifer gets the star for Not Being As Much Of A Douchebag As He Could Have Been. As always, I would love to hear what you thought of it! Drop a comment and it'll make my day ≧◠◡◠≦ Also **[ check out Part 2 of my new Samifer series! ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9326405) **. Strippers included.
> 
> If you'd like to support me, you can [check out my novel](https://www.kobo.com/nz/en/ebook/tea-in-the-outback) or [shout me a drink!](https://www.paypal.com/cgi-bin/webscr?cmd=_s-xclick&hosted_button_id=TT3Q6W95QFSM2) ^.^


	6. Learning a New Dance

Like an animal in a new enclosure, it took Sam a little while to venture out of Lucifer’s chambers. It was odd that the Captain kept his quarters unlocked, but maybe only Sam and those with special access like the red-headed bitch had passage. Or maybe he relied on the crew’s devotion or fear, as Sam suspected, that they wouldn’t even dare enter. He wasn’t sure. But the ambassador was adamant that to effect a successful escape, or even help Syndicate forces if they came in contact, he needed to know the territory. Booty shorts or not, exploration of The Cage was vital, and Sam was certain that even though he didn’t like it, he could rely on Lucifer’s claim on him to keep him safe from unwanted touches at least. Dean wouldn’t have minded this clothing predicament so much, Sam mused. Hell, Dean put himself ‘on display’ on a regular, drunken basis that Sam had never in his life needed to see. Seriously, if Dean died in a horrible explosion with only his dick left, Sam could probably ID it by now. But to Sam? This was just debasing. He was more than just a good piece of ass to look at. 

The Cage lived up to its reputation of being confusing and inescapable from the stories – even though the ship seemed to be much smaller than a Battlecruiser, corridors wended here and there, rooms opened to stairs and lifts, and although there seemed to be some sort of symbol system, there were no other kinds of labels. Most of the rooms Sam wasn’t granted access to, so he wandered the halls for a little bit and followed the symbols. If he focussed on them, it was easier to ignore the lewd stares and comments as he walked around.  
“Look at the legs on him, whew!” Said one woman with a whistle, like Sam wasn’t even there.  
“Captain’s sure treating himself. Can’t wait till he lets us have a go.” A guy agreed to the woman’s laughter, and Sam just swallowed and carried on along the trail of a starburst symbol he was pretty sure led to the engines. 

 

Things had gone a little better than Lucifer thought they might. He hadn’t been wrong when he’d guessed Sam to be a feisty one, but hell, it’d been so long since someone back-talked to him, he’d kind of enjoyed it to be honest. No, that wasn’t the problematic part. The problematic part was how Lucifer couldn’t keep his eyes off the man. He wasn’t used to this curiosity, this hunger. The Pirate King had seen the Pleasure Palaces of Kyrene, had talked with the Telphousa sirens who flew among the stars and tempted crews out of their spaceships to their deaths, and had seduced all manners of life forms with his own silver tongue without even an inch of control lost. But now this one, plain human had his head in a spin, to the point where he was on the bridge of his ship, but still back at the sight of Sam, muscles hard and tense in the dim light of his chambers, eyes afire with the passion of rage. It made Lucifer want to piss him off again and again just to see how ferocious Sam could look.

Lucifer’s MD dinged to tell him he had a call, which he accepted with a thought. Yes he could have tapped the screen, but he couldn’t be bothered. The blonde rested his chin on the back of his command chair, which he’d turned around and straddled.  
“This is the Captain.” Lucifer knew it was Abaddon on the other end before she even answered. It had been a test of her loyalty today, to see if she would harm his spirited slave against his orders, and she had passed with minimal offense. If she continued to verbally harass Sam, he’d have a word with her, but the guy _had_ dislocated her shoulder.  
“Your human is wandering around the ship, sir.” Her voice was terse with hatred, but she managed to go without calling Sam a whore in front of him. Abaddon should know by now that Lucifer heard everything that he chose to pay attention to. It’d hurt his head to pay attention to every little conversation and detail that happened aboard his ship 24/7, and he usually had a general feeling for what was going on anyway, but that little episode had been of particular interest.  
“Let him wander, Lieutenant. If humans feel like their freedom is restricted, they’ll just get worse to handle.” Lucifer did a lazy scan of the ship, and sure enough, his Sammy was headed off toward the engines. It was kind of cute how inquisitive he was. The look of an officer and the way she was moving further into Sam’s personal space wasn’t though.  
“Out.” Lucifer ended the conversation and let his mind drop to every crew member, but not Sam. The scrap-worker had been frightened by an in-built visual display module, never mind voices in his head.  
_In regards to my new object of entertainment, my little stormclouds. Be careful how you interfere with him. Some things I may not approve of._  
They didn’t need to be told that was a warning. No, Lucifer wouldn’t stop them looking, because with a physique like that, he’d be asking the impossible. True, if he forbad it, they wouldn’t dare, but a happy crew was an efficient crew. And they were efficient, if a little crude and cruel sometimes. But that was how Lucifer needed them to be.

The officer practically blanched and whisked off in the opposite direction, a request for forgiveness to Lucifer on her lips. He let her feel he’d acknowledged it, and pulled his full attention back to the bridge.  
“Demelza, have we found a drop for our cargo yet?” He fixed on the navigator and folded his arms over the back of his chair under his chin.  
“Cobra Delta Four, an extremely volcanic planet is four shifts away, sir. Other than that, there is the blue giant star Ord in quadrant 3a of the Yordain system one shift away, and yellow dwarf Guranta three shifts away, but our mainframe can’t take the kind of heat proximity needed in normal conditions.” The Sub-Lieutenant added with a glance toward him. If it had been an emergency, Lucifer might have provided less than normal conditions, but Bella and her network hadn’t told him of any Syndicate endeavours to patrol in this area of the charted star systems, so they had time. The pirate ships on mid and inner ring rotation seemed to have things under control with no need for backup, so they definitely had time.  
“Take us to Cobra Delta Four then, Sub-light 5.” He sighed. That planet was going to prove problematic too, as the Sub-Lieutenant seemed to have noticed.  
“Readings show that its atmosphere contains a very high level of sodium, sir.” Demelza swallowed, and the rest of the crew glanced about with discomfort.  
“Yes it does. But isn’t that what our droids and golems are for?” Lucifer knew it wasn’t ideal – with the heat on the volcanic planet and the minimal equipment his ship required for stealth and speed, even golems and droids might run into problems. But he couldn’t risk taking plasma or laser damage to The Cage with that kind of cargo on board; the sooner it was gone, the better.

 

Sam frowned back over his shoulder as that creepy lady turned on her heel without warning and left with what looked like the fear of a god in her eyes. Not to say he wasn’t glad – one step closer and she’d have got a bitchslap, no matter how adept at healing these not-quite-humans were. But it was almost eerie the way she’d frozen and then pretty much ran. For a second Sam had thought there had been an Alskinian Wyrm behind him, or even worse, Lucifer, but when he looked there had been a whole lot of nothing. Unless she had a morbid fear of sexual-harassment-repelling glares, which then would make a kind of sense. Not for the first time today, Sam had a feeling there was far more going on with The Cage than met the eye, if these chills were anything to go on. Before he even had time to follow that train of thought, a _schoop_ noise panned through his brain and up popped that horrid interactive screen with a tidy blue reminder on it.

Reminder: Cleaning Task In The Captain’s Chambers in 5 Minutes.

A blue line appeared on the corridor floor that pulsed with arrows back in the direction he’d come. In the top right of his vision was a small countdown timer that seemed to be counting down one minute. Sam ignored it for a second, hated how the chip loved to shove it in his face that it was wired into his brain, and tapped on the console panel near the door marked with Detach Segment 5J on it. An image of what looked like a small ship turned on the panel, with Personal Access Key Required in white letters beneath it. It seemed that, apart from the symbols, Lucifer and his crew did primarily speak English, which was handy, although strange when the crew at least didn’t seem fully human. This looked like a form of escape pod, though, and Sam was pretty sure the crew members would keep their Personal Access Key in or on their MD –  
_Boop! Boop! Boop!_  
The minute countdown began to tick down when it hit ten seconds, and Sam glared at it in defiance. He hated to admit it, but Lucifer was right – he wanted to know what would happen if he disobeyed the technology that had been jammed without his permission into his nervous system. The hallway around him had been clear of crew since the woman had scarpered, so even if it made him collapse or look like a complete idiot, he wouldn’t have an audience.

Please make your way to designated work zone, 027

Came the reminder, but Sam just crossed his arms and waited for his bad idea to reach full fruition. A sear of pain burned down his spine and into his left leg as the chip in his head cut into his nervous system and moved it for him. He gripped then wall and gritted his teeth against a cry, but there was nothing Sam could do to stop himself going along with his programming. Another zap up his arm made him let go, and the chip pulsed bursts of pain through both legs now, moved him along the blue arrowed band.  
“Stop, fine, I’ll do it!” Sam managed out from behind his teeth, but the chip didn’t respond. Only when he tried to move his leg forward, with the direction of the command did the sting die down. If he did what it told him to, it wouldn’t hurt him. Sam wanted to punch something, he felt so helpless and subjugated, but at least now he knew.

 

Oddly enough, it turned out that even though the work was set into his fucking brain, the program itself was kind of satisfying. When Sam reached Lucifer’s quarters, there had been a little spinning disk at the door which had unlocked an achievement of his first work destination reached. For every task, the area with the equipment he needed was bordered in blue, like a HoloReality Game tutorial, and when he’d finished a task, it got ticked off the list on an unfolding menu on the left of his vision.  
It was odd that Lucifer needed a person to clean his quarters at all, but then again The Cage did seem to run on the bare minimum. Sam wasn’t sure, but from what he’d seen it didn’t seem like there was over a three hundred crew aboard, which, compared to the Battlecruiser complement of 3,500 soldiers and officers, was tiny. But that was how the pirates worked, wasn’t it? By being small, well-camouflaged and brutal rather than a barrage of head on plasma canons.

Sam threw an Air Orb up into the high rafters – it’d use compressed air to blow down any dust or whatever to the floor to collect. It wasn’t as though Lucifer’s quarters were a mess, hell, the Captain didn’t seem to own enough shit for clutter to get strewn all over the place. True, Lucifer did seem to have a slight pile of clothes he just tossed on the floor around his bed, but next to Dean, who Sam swore had been trying to make a nest at one point, it wasn’t that bad. Though the Captain didn’t seem to have much variety in apparel. Leather vests and pants with weird symbols carved into them, but the animal they’d been made from, Sam wasn’t sure. It did seem to be the trend on this ship though, or maybe the crew just liked to copy the Captain. Or maybe Sam was enslaved on a ship full of leather fetishists, he didn’t know. 

Sam hauled the sheets and duvet off Lucifer’s bed with a quick check under the pillows and mattress, but came up with nothing. Damn. Most military folk he knew kept at least one vibra-knife or laser cutter or small handgun of some kind in or around their bed, but either Lucifer had made sure there was nothing around for Sam to pick up and use, or he carried all his weapons on him in his shifts. If Sam was correct, the pirate ship should run by conventional shifts split into eight hours – D shift (Day shift, 6-2), M shift (Middle shift 2-10) and N shift (Night shift 10-6). The Captain and second in command worked the Day Shift and Middle Shift, generally, while the Night Shift had its own crew. But on a ship with only three hundred, by Sam’s estimate, then the Night Shift should have less than one active members, if that. Which would be a perfect time to effect any escape. He could do that. Bide his time, get through whatever this evening had to offer, steal Lucifer’s weapons or MD tonight and go back to where he’d found what looked like escape pods.

The Air Orb bobbed back down, full of dust, so Sam unscrewed it and emptied it into a garbage chute. In another weird quirk, The Cage didn’t seem to have incinerators, which meant they must dump rubbish somewhere at times – things to remember once he got back to Dean and the Syndicate. If they could scan for this older type of rubbish dump, they might be able to map the pirate’s movements from that trail instead. Hm. The ambassador looked at the Orb in his hand. If he had a tool or two, he might be able to make an effective kind of compression bomb from it. But –  
“Hey!” Sam yelped as the chip shot an electric zing through his nervous system for being idle too long. With a sigh, he bundled up Lucifer’s bedclothes, dumped them in the Cleaning System with the pile of clothes too, waited the usual twenty seconds for the wash and dry, then hauled them out again. At least The Cage had a freaking cleaning system, or Lucifer would probably make work like one of those Far Ancient peasant ladies with a tub and board. Sam rolled his eyes as another alert popped up.

Cargo Work in 5 Minutes.

To say his programming never gave him rest would be a lie. It calculated his energy level, fitness level and the intensity of the workload in neat bar graphs on the bottom left of his vision. It was nice to know that from his Syndicate training and extra workouts with Dean, he’d been categorized at High Level Fitness – Human.

***

It was a good job he was too, Sam panted to himself after an hour in which they’d shifted only a corner of the crates in the hold. In a way, it almost felt good. As an ambassador, there was a lot of sitting and reading and talking, and often it drove Sam a little stir crazy. He’d always had an active body, and something in his head and muscles just revelled in working up a sweat so severe that his hair was damp and his muscles throbbed with effort. The program had only now deigned he was at his limits and allowed him a fifteen minute rest for ‘nutrition and recuperation’ as it so nicely put it. Though, oddly enough, the work in the cargo hold had been the most informative thing he’d done all day.  
The crates which he, the golems and droids had been shifting from the hold to some sort of adjoining floor space were Syndicate, and Syndicate weaponry at that. Sam re-read the stamps on the side as he drained a packet of re-con water: WEAPONRY TRANSPORT 02486 E-5 TO PJANTRA.  
The Pjantrae were a race at war with the Yalgisi, but were less technologically advanced than the Yalgisi. Since the Syndicate had a trade treaty with Pjantra, they kept the sides balanced by selling them weapons. Sam had studied this case as a potential follow-up to the Jormyjr, and although he hated the idea of providing any race more means for war, these weapons would have saved lives. Without them…a flash of anger burned down to his stomach. Without them, the Pjantrae would be slaughtered, and it was all because Lucifer wanted to, what, sell them for a higher profit? Get some petty cash out of it? Fucking pirate asshole.  
At least the cargo gave him a bearing on his location. Pjantra was in the outer reaches, quadrant 866-A. They couldn’t have had the cargo for more than a week, because the shipment had gone out from the furthest outpost Syndicate base only that long ago. It was something to start from anyway.

Reminder: Cargo work in 1 minute.

Sam sighed and tapped into the playlist of various music patches he’d discovered from the program’s suggestion. Despite himself, half of it was Ancient Classical Rock just because it reminded him of Dean. He gave his arms and shoulders a rub, then stood up to join the non-stop plod of the golems and the mechanical path of the small droids.

 

Lucifer had totally forgotten about food during D shift, like he usually did. At first, he’d forgotten to eat at all, which had left him panicked as to why he was dizzy, cold and didn’t work properly. Not that food was unpleasant, no. It just got in the way. It broke concentration, having to get up, Produce something then get distracted by flavour and texture...so often he just ignored the ache in his stomach until his breaks in M shift.  
“Ruby, bring us into near-orbit around Frizoa Twelve. At 40,000 kilometres, Demelza engage cloak and set a course for Cobra Delta Four.” They were still disguised as a merchant ship on the outside, and if they just disappeared that’d be a suspicious sign the Syndicate might pick up on, even in the outer ring of charted planets. A trail into Frizoa Twelve would be plausible; they didn’t require access permits or record arrivals, so even if the Syndicate tried to check it out, it would be impossible to gauge whether they’d landed here or not.

The doors shifted open and Lucifer was glad he’d just given the order, because otherwise it would have totally fled his mind. Sam breezed through the doors, muscles bronze under a sheen of sweat from his work in the cargo hold. His hair was a damp mess, and the human didn’t just look like pure sex, but the pheromones on him were enough to send a hot, heavy streak straight down to Lucifer’s groin. Fucking hell, where had they found this guy? And how was he not some kind of glamour chain model by now? Lucifer found it almost impossible to believe that he was pure human, but he’d checked the guy over himself; there was nothing, no Telphousa lineage he could sense, no genetic enhancement, no chemical stimulants, nothing. He was pure human, which was a rarity in itself, but pure humans didn’t affect him like this. Sam, it seemed, just naturally pushed all his usually well-controlled buttons in every possible way.

“Hmm. I think I agree with your choice of work.” Lucifer crossed his legs which were draped over the left arm of the chair and looked up at this beauty of a man with a smirk. Sam just thrust a bowl of marinated vegetable cubes with stem-cell Hauge meat at him with that steely look the Captain took so much delight in.  
“Anything to get away from you for as long as possible, you sick fuck.” Sam snapped and crossed his arms around his chest. The entire bridge went dead silent, even though the crew had pretended not to noticed when Sam had walked in – they knew better than to ogle Lucifer’s property right in front of him.  
“Excuse me?” Lucifer raised his eyebrows. A smart mouth was acceptable, even fun when they were alone, but in front of his crew, Sam would have to learn to bite his tongue.  
“You heard.” The human seemed to notice the absolute silence, even looked a bit nervous, but didn’t back down. Had he bought the most stubborn human in the galaxy as well as the prettiest one?  
“You know, I’ve thrown people out of airlocks for less.” Lucifer kept his tone mild, and munched on a vegetable cube as he considered his slave.  
“Go ahead, you’ll lose your favourite pet.” Sam sniped. Wow, something had really pushed his buttons. Or maybe he felt more emboldened when they weren’t alone. But to be honest, Sam was safer there; the only reason why his Engineer behind Sam hadn’t ripped the human’s head off when the man had insulted Lucifer was because he wouldn’t dare without permission.  
“Maybe I should whip you, hmm? You’d look pretty with some nice red welts across your ass for all the crew to see.” He cocked his head to the side, and even though he knew his heart wasn’t in the threat, Sam stiffened. “And I would make sure the crew saw them, Sammy.”  
Sam tried to hold his eyes with a glare, but very few made it past the three second mark. This human was no different, and lowered his gaze to the floor. Good. He’d got the message then. 

After a moment or two of silence, the bridge staff relaxed a little, then after a little longer, dropped into the usual conversational buzz as Lucifer finished his food. Sam stood like a gorgeous, angry statue beside his chair, but didn’t even have a chance of being formidable when he smelled just so damn good. Fuck, Lucifer hadn’t had an erection this hard in decades or more. Maybe this had been more of a mistake than he’d anticipated. He’d never been a masochist, so why had he gone and done something that’d have him in a state of eternal frustration for the Universe knew how long? Because he hadn’t been able to bear the thought of another alien being Sam’s master? Because he couldn’t let that fine physique be carved up, or minced as a high-price delicacy? Because he was bored? Knowing himself, that would be about right. Lucifer sighed inwardly as Sam snatched his empty dish away and stalked off the bridge. The way those leather shorts flashed up to show just a tease of Sam’s ass where it joined his thigh sent a thrum of desire down the Captain’s throat and chest. Well, at least he wouldn’t forget about lunch ever again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For reference, The Cage is around the size of the Starship Enterprise, whereas a Battlecruiser is about the size of a Star Destroyer, maybe bigger. Hope you enjoyed, and if you liked this chapter, tell me what you think in a comment! It always makes my day, and makes me more confident to put more chapters up n.n Thank you so much for all your wonderful comments and kudos so far! They always make my day ♥  
> Stay awesome y'all, know you will (♡╹▿╹♡)
> 
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	7. Manners and Planners

Sam slumped on to the only couch in Lucifer’s chambers with a groan. Even his body wasn’t used to ten hours of physical work, with only skint breaks to rest. Or longer breaks when it was time to serve Lucifer food, but he’d take the short ones over that any day – the way the Captain looked at him with a ravenous hunger (which he was 90% sure was not to do with the food), the way he made Sam feel like a petulant child in front of his crew, the way he sat there like the cockiest asshole in the galaxy while he carried the last defence of a planet as plunder...  
Mmm, Sam was even too tired to get fired up. He should… shower or something before Lucifer finished his shifts. But the couch was deep and comfortable, and his muscles shook at the thought of movement… Before Sam knew it, his heavy eyelids sank down and he drifted off to quiet blackness.

 

Warm. And…close. Something felt close.  
“Nmm…” Sam dragged his lazy eyes open and shifted against the metal behind him. Jeez, had he passed out? It took a second for two things to click. One: Metal. Two: It was pitch black with his eyes open. A lurch hit his stomach, and the ambassador reached a hand forward to smack it against a metal surface. What the fuck. What the actual shit. That closeness he’d felt…it was the walls. The sound of his hurried breath filled the miserly space and Sam ran through every scenario this could be. Medical testing? Some sort of pre-cryo? He couldn’t think for a moment, and swallowed down the panic that threatened to choke his throat.  
After a few breaths, Sam took in his predicament a little more, but there wasn’t much else to add – small, dark, confined. His back seemed to rest in a mould his shape, and the panel or lid or whatever was in front of him didn’t move at a firm push.

A hollow _shfff_ echoed in the space outside whatever he was trapped in, and that meant two options – someone who could help him or it was whoever had put him in here. The logical conclusion: wherever he was, he was safe. As long as Lucifer liked him, he wouldn’t let anyone hurt …oh fuck, what if the Captain was set on punishing him for what he’d said on the bridge earlier today? And whatever this was…Sam didn’t want to find out, so he took his chance.  
“Hey!” He yelled and pounded the metal in front of him with a fist. “Hey, can you hear me?! Let me out of here!”  
Sam couldn’t describe it, but something _changed_ in the air outside, and all of a sudden the panel slid back. It took a second for Sam to realize he’d been shut away vertically rather than horizontally, and staggered forward so hard that he would have gone head over heels if a strong hand hadn’t caught his bicep.  
“You weren’t meant to wake up.” Lucifer frowned, and Sam ripped his arm free with a look of horror and disbelief.  
“You fucking put me in there?!” He yelled and took some quick breaths of the cooler, open air. “Why?! What - What the _fuck_ is that for?”

Sam pointed at the groove in the shape of his body before the panel slid back and clicked into place in the wall, as if nothing had ever been there. Lucifer seemed a little confused at his anger, which made no fucking sense. Then again, he was an amoral pirate asshole, so things like simple human decency might come hard to him.  
“Sometimes I need to do things you can’t be around for, Sam. So I put you in storage.” The bastard cocked his head as though curious. “As I said, you weren’t meant to wake up from stand-by. I suppose I could turn you off instead.”  
“Turn me – no, fuck you Lucifer!” Sam was just about at his wits end at how _wrong_ it was that someone thought they could just stow him away or shut him down like a fucking machine. “Don’t do shit to me when I don’t know about it, don’t put me on stand-by or fucking turn me off, just wake me up and ask! What the fuck is wrong with you?”  
He panted, then caught sight of Lucifer just watching him. Transfixed, or angry, or, turned on, Sam didn’t know this poker-faced asshole well enough to judge, but even that gaze made him nervous. There was just something unnatural about the pirate captain and he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. That monster that lurked beneath the calm surface, perhaps? And Sam felt like this was the third time today he’d thrown a stone at it. 

The ambassador almost flinched when Lucifer made a move, but the sandy blonde just crossed his arms.  
“Alright then. Leave.” The Captain flicked a finger at the door, and Sam didn’t stick around to tempt fate – he turned on his heel and strode out of Lucifer’s quarters toward the cargo hold before the Pirate King could change his mind. It was warmer down there for people who weren’t allowed fucking clothes, and the golems and droids were better company than the rest of this pirate scum.

  
Sam would have stayed there the rest of D shift and the whole of N shift if his programming hadn’t called him up to be the dinner lady for the lazy dick who couldn’t push three buttons for himself. His own stomach growled and by fuck he needed a shower, but he hoped to chuck some food Lucifer’s way and get clean while the beast was distracted, then eat.

The triangle-slot doors hushed open, and there was the King Asshole himself, legs stretched out on the long metal table in front of him doing something probably criminal on his MD. Did Lucifer have something against sitting in a chair like a normal person? Seriously. Sam had gone to the bridge twice in M shift – the first time Lucifer seemed to be using the command chair like a hammock and the second time he’d been freaking squatting on it like a bird on a perch. Either his thighs were made of titanium or he just did it to subliminally piss off Sam even more.  
“Hey cutie.” Lucifer didn’t even look up at Sam’s gourmet bitchface.  
“Call me that again and I’ll shove that MD up your ass, Pirate King or not.” He tried. He really tried to be the cool, calm Space Jesus he’d been trained to be. But there was something about this douchebag that made him want to be a douchebag right back.  
“You kinky minx.” Lucifer looked up and shot him a warm smile and a wink, and this time Sam made sure he got the full power bitchface. Then his programming chirped a warning, and Sam turned toward the side of the room with the Producer on it with a last glare. Even the Producer was a decent walk away. Unless he’d been right the first time, and the room was sized to fit Lucifer’s massive ego, it didn’t make sense to have a space this big. It didn’t make structural sense, it didn’t make efficiency sense, it didn’t make any kind of sense at all except pride. But that being said, Lucifer had shit all in his room. What, a couch with a small table, a bed, a large table and a chair. Not exactly the luxurious Captain’s quarters Sam had seen in the Syndicate.

“Look.” Sam snapped and pointed to the dials, and His Majesty graced him with a brief glance. “Look how fucking easy this is. Are you that lazy that you need someone else to push three whole buttons?”  
The machine hummed and dispensed a recycled mulch bowl full of Ben-Quong-Ghee that the Captain had programmed him to get. Otherwise he’d be feeding the asshole ice to keep his heart company.  
“I work 16hrs a day and after that anything I can get anyone else to do for me, I will.” Lucifer hummed, still focussed on whatever work he had on his MD. Sam strode back and tossed the bowl and fork on the table with such venom it almost tipped over. He had considered just dumping it all over this selfish douche, but he wasn’t a fucking child. “Now, go drape yourself all over the couch like before, it was a good look.”

Irate heat flared up Sam’s neck and cheeks as he thought of Lucifer watching him while he slept. Creepy as all hell was what it was. Obviously this guy hadn’t pulled a score in years and was so desperate he had to get a frickin slave to be a pervert at. Yeah, it was common knowledge that most ship captains couldn’t hold down relationships, but this was just going to ridiculous measures.  
“No. How about you tell me why you have a whole load of weapons that could save a planet from being slaughtered in your cargo hold, huh?” Sam crossed his arms, a little emboldened that Lucifer hadn’t threatened him for his smart mouth yet. There seemed to be a subtle shift between when they were alone and when there were crew around – the Captain seemed far more lenient when he didn’t have an audience.  
  
Lucifer’s eyebrows lifted a little, and he dropped his legs off the table to tug the food towards him.  
“You know the situation, hmm?” The older man looked at him with a curious expression, and Sam realized the second year military officer he pretended to be shouldn’t know interplanetary state affairs like the Pjantra-Yalsigi conflict.  
“The crates have Weaponry Transport on them, and there’s enough down there to furnish an army for a whole planet.” Sam huffed in a hasty backtrack and hoped his years playing Ancient Poker with Dean hadn’t been in vain.  
“Mm, they said you were smart.” Lucifer gestured at him with his fork, and Sam was a little taken aback by the compliment. Shouldn’t that be dangerous? In fact why the hell _had_ Lucifer bought a human? “But I have my reasons.”  
“And they are?” Sam clenched his teeth about how casual the pirate Captain was about the amount of death his little whim was going to cause.  
“Now that wouldn’t be any fun, now would it?” Lucifer smirked and Sam rolled his eyes so hard they could have been bionic.  
“Any fu – whatever.” Sam suddenly remembered his previous plan. “I’m gonna take a shower now, and if you try anything, so help me I will break your fucking spine.”  
“I’d still say worth it.” Those pale blue eyes flicked up over him, but didn’t carry any dangerous hunger, not like what he’d seen this afternoon. Maybe the Captain was just too tired.  
“Don’t.” Sam growled, jabbed at him with a finger, and didn’t wait around for another smart remark, just padded off toward the shower. He swore he heard that bastard chuckle.

As much as he wanted to stay under the water for freaking ever, Sam did not want to give Lucifer any opportunities. In the end, he probably only stayed there five or so minutes and half of that was looking over his shoulder when he thought he saw the ghost of the Pirate King. It wasn’t as though he wanted it, hell no, the opposite, but expect it? Oh yeah. Stories about Lucifer put him as the kind of man that wouldn’t think twice about forcing himself on someone, and those were the nice tales. Of course, it all seemed a bit different in person. Lucifer hadn’t cut his tongue out. He hadn’t skinned him or impaled him. No, that didn’t make slavery and the removal of Sam’s civil rights any more forgivable. He was just…glad the stories were wrong. So far.

After the Air Jet System had dried him off, Sam grabbed his booty shorts from the Cleaning System thankfully inside the huge bathroom area and headed back out. Lucifer was right where he’d left him, except his legs had swung back up onto the table and the bowl was now empty. Sam’s program outlined in in blue for him to take back to the Producer, because apparently that was all being in the top ten percent IQ pool and a First Class Ambassador was good for when enslaved to a pirate king. And being stared at, it seemed.  
“You look nice. Practically glowing with heat.” Lucifer smirked, and Sam couldn’t help but recall how cool the Captain’s hand had been on his bicep. Well, for a human. He still wasn’t 100% on that one, but he doubted the Pirate King would tell him even if he chucked in the puppy dog eyes.  
“You still look like a douchebag from here.” Sam huffed and tossed the bowl back to be filtered, reprocessed and reconstructed by the Producer. He heard Lucifer’s little ‘hm’ of amusement, turned around, then froze. The blonde man had undone his vest and slid it down off his muscular shoulders. Fuck. This was it then, huh?  
Lucifer stood and seemed to notice Sam stiffen half a room a way and shrink back toward the wall a little.  
“Don’t get excited Sammy, but do get me some fresh clothes, hm?” The Captain waved a finger in a matter-of-fact kind of way at his vest on the floor as he undid his belt. “And take care of these.”

Sam pushed the thud of his heart back down and practically jogged over to the wardrobe in a wall panel beside Lucifer’s bed. If the guy wanted clothes, hell, Sam didn’t need a program to give him incentive. The sound Lucifer’s belt made as it hit the floor with his leather pants still clutched at his gut, but he just steeled himself, tossed everything Lucifer would need on his bed and tried to look anywhere other than the near-naked Captain who just got started on his briefs. Things Sam 100% did not need to see, so he just swept up the leather fetishists dream from the floor and was three strides toward the Cleaning System when something fabric hit his shoulder.  
“What did I even buy you for? You’re hopeless.” Lucifer didn’t sound angry though. Teasing would be a better word for that tone. It took Sam a flustered catch and a moment of confusion to figure out that the terrifying King of Pirates had just chucked his underwear at him.  
“Oh, and I half expected these to be leather too.” Sam refused to be out sassed even by someone feared throughout the whole breadth of space.  
“I’ll remember that for next time, sweetheart.” Lucifer threw him a roguish wink over his shoulder and tugged the replacement for what he’d just punted at Sam over his bare ass. It was a shame that Lucifer was actually fairly attractive when he was such a dick in every other aspect of life.  
“Please don’t.” Sam gave a sardonic sigh, but the tight ball in his stomach unfolded a little bit. 

Although, in all that sudden confusion, he hadn’t seen where Lucifer had stashed his weapons. Would he wear them to sleep in? It didn’t matter all that much. Once Lucifer was out to it, he could go and jump any of the crew members for something – he’d kept an eye out today, and noticed that unlike Syndicate or other standardized organizations, the pirates seemed to have their weapon of choice on them rather than an issue weapon. Ah well. He’d take his chances, and this time he’d make sure the unlucky crew member stayed down, even if he had to empty a plasma glock into their face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The sassing continues.  
> Thank you all so much for your kudos and comments so far, it's wonderful to talk to y'all! I'd love to hear what you thought of this chapter (or some future predictions! I'm a ho for future predictions) as well so leave a comment or some kudos if you like n.n I hope you're enjoying the progression of this little tale, and stay awesome buddies! ଘ(੭ˊ꒳ˋ)੭✧
> 
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> Catch up with me on [tumblr](swaglexander-the-great.tumblr.com) too!


	8. Doubt and Laughter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warning:** Sam does get quite scared in this chapter, be prepared for that, but (spoilers) he never comes to any harm.

Brady had told him once that humans reached REM around 70-90 minutes, so Sam spent the hour or so on a reflex game the program chip came with. Of course, Lucifer might not be human, but hell, Sam wasn’t going to sit around on ‘what ifs’ when there was so much at stake either way. It wasn’t likely he’d get killed – he could rely on Lucifer’s attraction to him for that, for now at least. The ambassador just had to make sure he didn’t cross the line where he became more trouble than he was worth. But triumph didn’t come without struggle, so he took a breath and shut off his program.

The couch seemed to thunder Sam sat up – every brush of fabric against his skin was a roar, every still breath was loud as a Korplyet Dragon, and his bare feet seemed to slap the cool floor even though Sam knew he couldn’t be louder than a shadow. Uralias Omicron, where mom had raised them, hadn’t been the daintiest of planets, and he and Dean had gotten out of what seemed like a million situations with quiet feet and hushed control of their voices and breath. People thought he (for a part) and Dean had risen up the military ranks through favouritism, but in all truth, it had been mom’s training, their freedom and a life of constant danger and exhilaration. Not to mention there’d always been an old-style-cooked apple pie at the end of each day as a reward if they survived. Sam would never have become a Sub-Lieutenant after a mere two years without mom, and he doubted Dean would be the Syndicate golden boy without her either.

The ambassador prowled across the cavern of a room and almost walked into the door. Sam took a step back with a frown and tapped the security panel at the side. Nothing. Lucifer had locked it. Or maybe it locked itself when Lucifer fell asleep. Hm. That put a dint in his plan. Sam examined the panel for a moment, but it was pressure sealed. He’d need the Captain’s MD to unseal it, and then hacking it open would be a breeze. There was just one pitfall in that – Lucifer’s MD. 

Sam paused for a moment. There weren’t many options here: Try and call up his old pickpocket skills and steal the MD, but he didn’t even know where it was. And Sam did _not_ want to find out what Lucifer’s reaction from being woken up by a grope from his hot slave would be. Give up, and try it in a shift where the door was open was the second option, but in the other shifts, his chip would probably render him immobile if he slacked on his work to escape. With seven hours, he could make it at least half way to civilization, dependant on what the shuttle or whatever he’d seen was, and put out his personal distress signal from there. Dean would be on him in no time at all, have his chip removed and they’d be home before he knew it if all things went well. The third option was both the most logical but also the most risky: find a weapon of some sort and kill Lucifer. Dead bodies were easier to pick, and a dead Captain was the best distraction Sam could hope for. True, the crew might rip him to pieces if they caught him, but he had to take that risk.

A little ball of doubt murmured in his stomach as he padded a little closer to Lucifer’s bed. The older blonde had face-planted into his pillow and…he didn’t _seem_ evil. He didn’t look evil. He looked like a dorky cat that had fallen asleep with its face half buried in a cushion. Sam ran a hand down his face, unsure all of a sudden. He’d killed people before as a soldier and in self-defence, so that wasn’t the bridge he needed to cross. It was just…so _cold_. And Lucifer hadn’t treated him badly enough to deserve death…  
No Sam, for fuck’s sake! He slapped himself mentally because the real thing might have woken the Captain up. This was the bastard who’d stolen weapons meant to give Pjantra a chance. This was the bastard whose forces had almost caused all-out war between the Jormyjr. This was the bastard whose pirates had killed his mother. That sobered him up outright. It didn’t matter how witty Lucifer’s banter was; he’d killed Sam’s mom, and he’d bought Sam as a slave. Who knew what he’d do with the rest of his life? Right here and now, even if Sam was killed, he might save hundreds, thousands, even millions by ending the Pirate King.

The younger Winchester took a quiet, deep breath and analysed the situation again with hard eyes. From this angle, a neck-break hold would be difficult, and Lucifer might wake up as he tried to get the right grip. Besides, it might just fuse back together like the red-headed bitch’s shoulder had. There wasn’t anything sharp Sam could shiv the Captain with, or anything heavy enough to kill him with one blow in the all-but-empty chamber. The chair was the only thing, but that’d be far too cumbersome and loud to move. Hm. Sam’s eyes wandered over the metal walls for a second, and that gave him an idea. Crazy, but it might just work. 

Shit, he was glad the panels and doors in this place opened without a sound; the wardrobe slid open and Sam unhooked the belt he’d hung up an hour or so ago. Broken bones might fuse, wounds might heal quickly, but unless Lucifer was _really_ inhuman and could breathe out his skin or something, there was a good chance that Sam could get this around his neck and choke him to death. And the way Lucifer lay with his hands curled on the pillow either side of his head would just make things easier. 

The ambassador smoothed the leather beneath his fingers as a last flash of doubt drizzled down him. It didn’t make sense why part of him seemed opposed. This was the right thing to do. Lucifer’s death would be a blessing on the galaxy, and here he was, on the brink of that blessing with misgivings. A shock of horror punched through him. Fuck, he couldn’t have got Stockholm this soon, could he? Even the thought made Sam mad enough to stalk over to the bed. He’d have to be quick about this. One screw up and Lucifer…he didn’t even want to think about what Lucifer might do to him for an attempt on his life. This was either going to be the most stupid or the most heroic decision of Sam’s life, but then again, the only differentiation between the two was whether it worked or not. Well, here went nothing.

With fingers that remembered their old dexterity, Sam threaded the leather through the gap under Lucifer’s throat where the end of the pillow and the start of the mattress dipped down to make a hollow. As soon as he’d slid it through, Sam leaped on top of the sleeping Captain to pin both his biceps down with his knees, and wrenched the leather in a tight cross, hard enough to close a throat with ease. Usually, the skin would crumple and pull, but Sam’s eyes flew wide with horror as Lucifer’s skin didn’t give an inch. It was like he’d wrapped the belt around stone, but his shock was short-lived. Something that couldn’t have been any of Lucifer’s limbs punched him so hard in the chest that Sam was knocked backwards. The belt literally snapped around Lucifer’s neck, but Sam didn’t even have time to think about that. A strong hand lashed out around his wrist, twisted him in mid-air and slammed him down on the mattress. Eyes that were more chips of ice burned down, inches from his own wild expression of shock.  
“Hey – “ Sam kicked against the man that pinned him as a rough thigh thrust his legs apart, but Lucifer’s hand on his wrist was a vice, and he took the kicks like a sea wall might take a few insistent waves.  
“Get the fuck off me you sick – “ Sam had been about to bite this bastard’s ear off or break his teeth in an attempt, but froze as a point so razor sharp that it felt like a whisper grazed against his throat. One move and he would be dead before he even realized it.

Sam’s bruised chest heaved with panic as Lucifer considered him like a starved lion who had just been tossed meat. Oh fuck, oh shit... Sam swallowed and closed his eyes for a terrible moment as his mistake sank in. Lucifer was going to do whatever the fuck he wanted to him, because this was the real world where pirate lords were cruel, sick bastards no matter how friendly they pretended to be.  
“You just tried to kill me.” Lucifer murmured into the curve of Sam’s neck, scruff rough on the sensitive skin there. The other man’s cool thumb by Sam’s wrist bone dug in just a bit and shiver of fear lanced through the ambassador, but he gritted his teeth against a whimper. He didn’t dare kick Lucifer, didn’t dare try and dislodge him from between his legs or that knife might slip and slice him open. Sam twitched the hand that was pinned down, but Lucifer’s grip was like a steel vice. Inhuman.  
“Get off me, get the fuck off me _now!_ ” Sam spat and heard his voice quaver a little as Lucifer shifted a bit and…ugh, he _felt_ Lucifer’s cock swell against his groin. He suddenly felt so very, very helpless and exposed, bare skin crushed against Lucifer’s clothes. No, no, he couldn’t, he’d rather Lucifer just kill him or torture him…  
“Don’t I get a bit of payback?” Lucifer’s tone was soft, his breath hot and hungry on Sam’s neck, and the ambassador just wanted to run, curl up in a corner and cry or beg for forgiveness, but he wouldn’t give the Captain the satisfaction. So he tensed and fixed on the ceiling. Thought of Dean and what he might be doing. How Brady, Jess and Kevin were as Lucifer nuzzled up his jaw. Dean would be on his ship with Castiel and Charlie by his side. They’d be systematically searching the star systems for him. 

That firm cock pressed against him so hard his skin there ached, and Sam hated the way his body reacted in the way it was instructed to by every primal instinct that read this situation. Then Lucifer’s lips found his ear, and the tip of that knife coaxed Sam’s head back so all the soft skin of his throat was exposed.  
“You’d really take it, wouldn’t you. You’d lie there, and I bet you wouldn’t even make a sound.” That melodious voice hummed in the low timbre of lust.  
Sam gritted his teeth at the way his skin shook and held his breath, but managed to keep his eyes fixed on the ceiling. Then the heat of those lips vanished and the weight of Lucifer’s body lifted off. Sam waited for hands to grab at his hips or a yank on his shorts, but it didn’t come. The knife and grip on his wrist withdrew and Lucifer rolled to the right so he sat on the covers beside the ambassador.  
“You really think I’m a monster, don’t you?” A weary tone crept into his voice, but Sam sat up real slow, like anything might tip the scales back. He just hugged himself and swallowed as he began to shake like it had dropped below freezing.  
“You – “ Sam had to clear his wrecked voice and start again, with a quick glance up at Lucifer, to make sure this wasn’t some kind of trick. “You play the part well.”

In the dim light, he heard the Captain sigh, then stiffened as Lucifer shrugged off his vest. Panic lurched back into Sam’s chest like a hot fever.  
“W-what are you doing.”  
“I’m gonna take a shower unless you want to help me take care of this.” The blonde gestured at the raise in his crotch and Sam just shook his head mutely and slid back a bit on the covers, cold all of a sudden. “Didn’t think so.”  
And with that, Lucifer just got up and walked away. Easy as that.

Sam thought he caught a mutter about ‘buying’, ‘humans’ and ‘mistake’, but couldn’t hear properly over the thunder of his heart. A moment or two after Lucifer vanished into the bathroom area, Sam’s muscles decided to unfreeze, and he pretty much sprinted back to the couch as if the bed had caught fire.  
“Fuck.” He whispered to himself and wiped away a tear that had escaped his will. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.”  
Sam pressed a hand over his mouth, and by the time his breath slowed again, other thoughts crept into his head. Was this some weird game? Or…or something? He listened to the patter of water from the bathroom and it filled his head like white noise. Lucifer in the stories wouldn’t have walked away. Lucifer, the malicious, vile, creature who haunted the stories that trickled down through the Syndicate would have raped him without a second thought and more besides. Sam had tried to _kill_ him and Lucifer had just walked away. Hadn’t even hit him, apart from throwing Sam off with...whatever that had been. Yeah, now Sam was 100% sure Lucifer wasn’t even remotely human, but he’d never seen an alien like that. Even Morphimagi and Shifters had tells that they’d put on an appearance. But the galaxy was a big place, so who knew what Lucifer was? 

The ambassador rubbed his own shoulders and drew in a breath on a count of three, then let it huff out again. He felt as though he’d dodged a plasma blast, although more and more, he wondered what Lucifer’s end game was. He had bought Sam to satisfy his sexual cravings, right? Of course, the ambassador was overjoyed to the point of tears that he didn’t go through with it, but it…it just didn’t make any sense, that was all. Sam curled into a ball and hoped to whatever luck the Universe held that Dean would find him before Lucifer changed his mind.

_It shouldn’t have been like this. But what is, is. It could have been worse. In some ways, it couldn't be better. The pieces are on the board now and I must watch with diligence. This is both a game and a very harsh reality. I am not a player who considers losing, even at the expense of loss._

***

Lucifer had liked it when Sam yelled better.  
He’d woken up to breakfast already put out on the table and dressed and eaten while Sam stayed on the couch with his legs drawn up against his chest, pointedly not looking at him while he did something on his interactive display. With the readout of this guy’s intelligence, Lucifer wondered how long it would take for Sam to hack into the shipwide space display screens at least.  
Hm. The Captain hoped he hadn’t gone _too_ far. No matter how well he dealt with it, Lucifer hadn’t missed how terrified Sam had been last night. To be honest, he’d only meant to teach the man a lesson about not waking up fucking ship captains while they got their precious, precious sleep. And his tired brain hadn’t really considered how much of a damn fright that had probably given the man. 

But…Lucifer really should have known better than to even touch Sam. The sensation of that firm, hot body beneath him, the feel of skin against skin, like he hadn’t had in hundreds of years, the ironic temptation of it all had got him rock hard before he’d even realized it. It had sent heat through his being, made him dizzy and light-headed, but invigorated at the same time and the _want_ … The fucking craving to be tangled so tight with Sam that they felt like one creature had hit him like a comet. He hadn’t known he’d missed it so badly till that moment. So Lucifer had done the most frustrating, pathetic thing he’d done in his life; climbed off the gorgeous thing beneath him, thrown himself into some hot water and jacked off with the ghost of Sam’s body still against his skin. 

Lucifer knew full well he could have taken what he wanted, and maybe if Sam was less spirited, more pitiful and less… _fun_ , he would have. But there was more to Sam than even Lucifer couldn’t make sense of; intelligence wasted on a military career, wit too sharp to have been blunted by drill sergeants and the determination…this man had defiance down to an art form, and it _gripped_ Lucifer; he didn’t just want Sam’s body. He wanted that mind too, he wanted to slip through the cracks, melt that steel resolve and watch Sam come undone from the inside out in his arms as they moved together. Lucifer wanted to break him and put him back together again in the most pleasurable way he could find. Not get quick gratification from a forced act of lust and be both feared and hated by his pet forever. But that aside: Sam had needed a lesson in letting Lucifer sleep. Attempts on his life he could tolerate. The Syndicate, various bounty hunters, vigilantes, family members, tax collectors, outlaws, other pirates and law enforcers did it all the time (to name a few), it was no big deal. True, they usually ended up dead, but a lot quicker than if they had _woken him up_ with an assassination attempt. In fact Sam might have been the first to survive that one. Maybe they’d both learned a lesson or two last night.

“Mmm, I don’t know what you do with those buttons, but this has never tasted better.” Lucifer tried with a smirk and Sam let him feed off the scrap of a glare he sent him. The Captain speared a lychee and played on a thoughtful look. “How about breakfast in bed tomorrow?”  
“How about you kiss my fucking ass, douchebag.” Sam muttered, and Lucifer had never thought such words would make his damn morning.  
“You get kinkier by the day, stud.” Lucifer winked, then chuckled as Sam flipped him off without taking his attention off his screen.  
“Haven’t you got to go and be an asshole somewhere else?” The human huffed as if it were an afterthought and glared at him again. Whoo, could that boy glare.  
“Someone got up on the wrong side of the couch this morning.” Lucifer smirked as Sam rolled those pretty hazel eyes.  
“Well maybe tomorrow you should make your own damn breakfast.”  
“Oh I wouldn’t want to get in the way of such artistry.” The Captain finished off his food with a hand flourish to underpin his riposte, and they could have gone on all morning, but Sam was (mostly) right – he’d be starting on the bridge in a minute or two. “Well, duty calls. So au revoir pour l'instant, mes petite choufleur.”

He blew Sam a kiss which the human caught, pretended to crush like a ball of paper, and threw over his shoulder. The doors had almost closed behind Lucifer when he heard Sam yell.  
_“Wait, did you just fucking call me your little cauliflower??”_  
Some kind of projectile hit the doors behind him, and it took the rest of the corridor for Lucifer to stop laughing. It’d been years since he’d done that too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully not too bad! I would love to hear what you thought of the chapter - any theories on Lucifer, on Sam's future, on the bit in Italics or anything you really enjoyed, I'm always so happy to hear from y'all! ^.^ I'm finding it very interesting playing around with grey characters: Sam being a victim but also a killer, Lucifer being both merciless and forgiving and both of them having a kind of armour with chinks in it that the other one has to find. Hope you're enjoying it too, and thank you so much to everyone who has left kudos and commented so far! Y'all are amazing and you make my day all the time. Stay awesome my buddies ヽ༼ ° ౪ ° ༽ﾉ  
>   
>  **If you'd like to support me** , you can [check out my novel](https://www.kobo.com/nz/en/ebook/tea-in-the-outback) or [shout me a drink!](https://www.paypal.com/cgi-bin/webscr?cmd=_s-xclick&hosted_button_id=TT3Q6W95QFSM2) ^.^


	9. Segments

The rest of D shift stayed pretty uneventful; the Syndicate wasn’t so wide spread in the furthest charted planets, and while Lucifer received reports that Samhain had blown a Syndicate base to smithereens and Meg had raided a medical transport, it was all easy pickings. If only he had more pirates under his command, the Syndicate would be running scared. He glanced down from the domed display screen of space as his MD chirped – Bella. 

One of the spies in their network had gotten their hands on a way to get into the Syndicate Government, and had put herself and a handful of others forward as suitable candidates. It wasn’t even a choice, really, and Bella did need to relocate after their last haul from Syndicate funds. She’d also sent him a few other reports: A Syndicate rations ship would be in the outer reaches soon and at Cantaya Lambda within eleven days with the usual defence convoy. Lucifer filed that in his memory for a future endeavour and flicked through the other reports. The Syndicate had cracked their hacking technology and would put a trace out on whoever used it next, but that was no big news. Lucifer could develop a new leech virus with his eyes closed, so he’d send one to Bella at the end of his shifts today. He should also expect an unusual amount of Syndicate ships and surveillance between Quadrant 58-204 of the Thielta Section of the mid-outer charted planets, as the son of a Syndicate Armada Admiral had gone missing in that region a week ago. Good riddance. The less puffed-up, military bastards in the world, the better. 

Lucifer tapped out of Bella’s encoded message and checked the time. Not even near lunch yet. It would be a lie to say he was just really hungry. Damn, Sam had his head turned like a gormless star-sailor with a Telphousa, but what could he say – he wasn’t one to deprive himself of temptation when temptation looked so good. Lucifer closed his eyes and saw the layers of his ship, saw the crew and the engines…and the cargo hold. Yeah, he needed to check the progress down there. Of course, he could have just paged Abaddon. Or got Crowley to page Abaddon. 

His train of thought kind of petered of as he found Sam, a burst of tanned flesh amongst the grey droids and dull golems. This had been a fucking mistake. The man’s muscular shoulders rippled into dips and cut lines while a sheen of sweat picked out those delicious Venus dimples just above where the leather cupped Sam’s ass. The human turned to the side, hair a mussed up mess from being pushed out of his face so much, and the S-curve of those powerful shoulders, slim waist and taught ass would have had Lucifer groan if he hadn’t remembered he was on the bridge. He really was a sucker for pain, wasn’t he?

Lucifer sighed and pulled his consciousness back. It took him a moment to realize he hadn’t even noticed how much cargo there was left to shift. Shit, that man…  
“Abaddon, how’s the cargo progress?” Lucifer sighed and hauled one knee up against his chest where he sat on the chair arm in an attempt shift his enthusiastic erection into a more comfortable position. How did humans live with this all the time?  
“Should take till quart M-shift.” The Lieutenant-Commander replied and Lucifer acknowledged, dismissed the call, then sat there for a few minutes before his mind threatened to wander again. He never used to get restless on the bridge. Or this bored. Lucifer glanced around at the bridge crew. They moved around him like he was a revered statue, which was…of course how it should be. They didn’t speak to him unless for business, but that had never been a problem, he’d never been bored like this until he’d been re-introduced to witty, frankly irreverent company. Lucifer sighed. Sam was the problem. That back-talking, bitchy, gorgeous sass-mouth Sam was the problem . Buying that fucking human really had been a mistake.

***

“Droid malfunction, Captain. And in these conditions, we’ll have to rotate the golems at an estimate of 8th shift, 6th shift cool down.”  
They’d arrived at Cobra Delta Four, and as predicted, the volcanic planet wasn’t pirate-ship friendly. If they had lifting equipment or pods they could waste, it wouldn’t have been so much of an issue. But on their light, fast craft, everything had a purpose and they saved weight where needed. Lucifer tapped his lips as he read the report. He had to stay on the ship to divert spatial residue into its natural course and further conceal The Cage; to make things more difficult, several Syndicate search droids had been detected in this star system. They had to be either from a Syndicate Captain or General who had sent them without permission or they were part of some sort of inconvenient random spot check, because Bella hadn’t specified there were orders for droids in their vicinity. And Bella never left out details.

Hm. Lucifer tossed up his options. He could get rid of the guns himself, but the energy would have to be diverted into space – the ship’s engines weren’t powerful enough to take that kind of influx and he himself couldn’t burn it as he was. And if he made a mistake, well…there were those above the Syndicate and other petty organizations, those who were a real threat, that might sense him. If Lucifer hadn’t had to stay on the damn ship this wouldn’t be an issue; sodium was no problem for him. They couldn’t rotate the golems at Abaddon’s predicted speed, because it would take two full shifts if the droids continued to malfunction, and although he could force the crew to join the workforce, they’d a) resent it and b) risk horrendous death from simply the huge amount of salt the planet produced. And a happy crew was an efficient crew. He also didn’t have crew to spare in case something did go wrong. They needed this done fast, without a trace and done well. Ugh, why did it have to be so hard?

Lucifer had considered shifting the cargo over a drop panel, but the volcanic storms might rupture and explode the guns to draw attention from the search droids. Besides, the crates they were in had good value melted down. Problems, problems.   
“Crowley. Suggestions?” That was what a second in command was for, after all. A fresh mind, fresh eyes and a different outlook: Crowley often took the conservative route, the careful option – the Parmenio to his Alexander as it were. But he knew the officer well enough to know that Crowley could weasel his way out of a Corothioit Tentacle Beast; solutions were his speciality. “I could take care of it, but we may have to re-invent ourselves again if things don’t go to plan.”

Only his oldest crew remembered the one and only time they’d needed to re-invent, and it was an annoying, tedious business with risks Lucifer didn’t care for.  
“There is one option, but you may not like it sire.” The well-dressed communications liaison swivelled around in his chair; of all the crew, Crowley was the only one who insisted on a three-piece suit all day every day as a uniform. But if it kept him happy, he could wear Hello Kitty lederhosen for all Lucifer cared.  
“Yes?”   
“We do have a certain party aboard who will be unaffected by the atmospheric environment, can withstand extreme conditions, and, from statistics, works 2.5 times faster than golems and has 85% less chance of malfunction compared to droids…” Crowley trailed off as Lucifer’s eyebrows lifted. Of course. Sam was human. With a heat suit, he’d be able to speed up the process by at a shift if not more, even with the golems on rotation cycle and the removal of some droids. For all their problems, humans really did make good slaves.  
“Very good, Crowley.” Lucifer tapped his lip as the commander let out a tense breath for suggesting the use of his Captain’s pet. “Call him to my briefing room.”

Lucifer flicked across his MD to cancel Sam’s timetable for the day and braced himself to face a hot, rough-scented, probably angry picture of perfection.

 

Sam’s screen blinked off so suddenly that he started in surprise, then looked around. The only person he knew had control of his programming was Lucifer, but the blonde douchebag was nowhere to be seen.

From: Commander Crowley.

Make your way to the Captain’s Briefing Room on the double, naked moose.

Sam frowned for a moment at the last two words, then the usual blue line with arrows appeared on the floor. The ambassador sighed as he followed it and wondered what Lucifer had in store for him this time other than a good ogle. Truth be told, the booty shorts weren’t so bad now after the initial discomfort. The crew stared, he ignored them. Lucifer stared, he ignored him. If Sam survived this pirate expedition, he’d become the king of ignoring people.

Sam noted an odd three with a loop tail as a symbol on the path he followed – that must be the bridge or command. Although… he hadn’t noticed that symbol before. And the path he was on connected to the engineering corridor, which he swore hadn’t forked off last time. Sam frowned and stepped into the empty elevator which went up, although wouldn’t that lead him to the level Lucifer’s quarters were on? But the doors opened to a different layout altogether. What the shit?  
The ambassador padded out across the thin carpet and took in the walls and floor, but the hallway didn’t carry on past the elevator and into the section with Lucifer’s quarters, it just ended with the lift. Ok, it seemed some of the rumours were correct; The Cage had some weird shit going down in it. Even if it did change and shift, it must do on a cyclical basis or something so that the crew could find their way around with ease.

Sam had been so focussed on the ship’s interior that he’d forgotten to brace himself for whatever Lucifer had in store for him until the crimson door slid open in triangle segments in front of him.   
“Ah. Sam.” Lucifer smiled at him warmly as though they both hadn’t tried to throttle or shiv each other last night and laced his fingers in a loose curve by his belt. It was only the Captain in here, so Sam guessed their ‘alone rules’ applied.  
“Ooh, what’s this? Am I getting a promotion?” Sam saturated his sentence in enough sarcasm to drown in and didn't miss how those ice blue eyes flitted over his skin. The Captain put a finger up to his lips as though thoughtful.  
“Funny you say that, Sam. In a way. In review of your exceptional work, I want you to help us on the planet.” Lucifer gestured with a tilt of his head to the outside of the ship, but even the fact that they’d reached a planet was news to Sam. He betted it was a wonderful planet. Full of candy and unicorns and rainbows.  
“What kind of help?” Not like he really had much of a choice because Lucifer would probably program him anyway, but he’d take the chance that if the Captain was asking then he might take no for an answer.  
“The cargo you’ve been moving into the ship segment. It needs to be destroyed. Emptied into a volcano, to be precise, and you’ll be much more efficient than anything at my disposal for the job.” Lucifer considered him and leaned against the table. This bastard wanted Sam to help him destroy Pjantra’s weapons? By _tipping them into a volcano???_

“First of all, Lucifer, what the fuck.” Sam, the highest ranking ambassador in the Syndicate, began his professional argument. “Why in all hell would I do that? Why the hell would _you_ do that? I’m not taking part in anything to do with destroying those much-needed guns and you – is this just some joke to you? That you can take what you like and burn it, laugh in the face of other peoples’ desperation and need? What is the point? What possible reward can you get from risking your lives in raids when you just destroy what you plunder? Unless you and your crew are insane. Unless you and your crew find the destruction and suffering of others reward in itself? I want _no_ part in that!”

Lucifer cocked his head, and Sam swallowed as he realized he might well have just blown his cover.  
“Sam Singer, you fascinate me.” The words didn’t harbour any of Lucifer’s playfulness or chill, or that darkness which seemed to lurk behind that human face. They sounded genuine and curious, and for a moment the intrigue in Lucifer’s eyes captured him for a moment. Then the Captain tapped his MD.  
“Abaddon, send a droid with a sample of the cargo to my briefing room.”  
Sam frowned, but Lucifer didn’t elaborate on why. They barely had to wait a few moments before the door slid open and the ovoid machine presented the Captain with his order. In a well-practised move, Lucifer un-slotted the plasma reaction chamber, removed the connection tube, flicked out the release mechanism and clicked it all back together again. He then held out the disabled gun to Sam.  
“Look at it.” Lucifer nodded at the weapon and the ambassador took it with apprehension. Was this some kind of test or trick? But the gun was well and truly disabled and…Sam ran a finger over the panels. One wobbled, another clicked out of place, the nozzle had mould flashing on its end which suggested both a decrepit mould and bad metal…

“This is shit.” Sam concluded and Lucifer’s lip curled in a huffed laugh.  
“Eloquently put, my little warrior for justice.”  
“But this is Syndicate. I saw the stamps myself.” Sam’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion and he ran his finger over the Syndicate brand on the grip heel. Lucifer couldn’t fake that – on a ship this size, he wouldn’t have the equipment to stamp every gun and crate, and even if he got it done off ship, why? Sam would be flattered if the Pirate King had put in so much detail and effort just for him.  
“That you did.” Lucifer plucked the crap quality weapon out of his hands and tossed it back into the magnetic field of the carrier droid.  
“It still doesn’t make sense why you don’t sell it. Isn’t that your business? It’d be much easier to offload it to some poor sap for a higher price.” Sam earned an look of playful offense. Why would the Syndicate manufacture bad quality weapons? Or perhaps these were knockoffs. But then whoever had forged them had to have access to Syndicate serial codes and weapon blueprints. These weren’t just close approximation copies; these were the exact make of guns Sam had handled for the last thirteen years or so.   
“I have a reputation to uphold. Nobody would buy anything from me again if I sold garbage like that.” Lucifer shrugged with nonchalant half-lidded eyes. Sam sighed with unease. If those guns had been sold to Pjantra…  
Then again, it was possible Lucifer had brought out a broken gun for him to make a judgement off. They were pirates after all, and Lucifer was the most crafty of them. There were a plethora of good reasons why Lucifer would want him to sympathize with their actions and Sam didn’t want any of it.

“I suppose you’ll just program me if I say no?” Sam pulled a bitchface and crossed his arms across his chest. Lucifer sighed like a weary parent with a sulking child.  
“Yes, I suppose. But it would make it much easier on both of us if you did it of your own volition, since I would have to estimate a specific program for this.” Lucifer mirrored his crossed arms, but his tone wasn’t the blackmail kind. “I might end up overworking you, which wouldn’t be ideal.”  
“Fine. I’ll do it but only because the weapons are crap.” Sam scowled, but it seemed like the better option; without programming he could check some of the contents of the crates he needed to empty, although there was no temptation to steal one. With structural integrity as bad as that, the gun was more likely to explode on him rather than damage anyone else. A bright, perky smile lit up Lucifer’s face, which Sam glowered at.  
“Excellent. We’ll get you a heatsuit and a segment to take you down in.”

 

A ‘segment’. Ah. Now things made a little bit more sense. It seemed that rather than having shuttles or escape pods, The Cage was made out of many separate segments that joined together to make a whole. Sam had no idea how many or how they functioned precisely, but the controls were made for both humanoid and droid pilots, which meant aspects were familiar. For some reason, Sam had been given a droid pilot – the crew were either too aloof to do scum jobs like this or didn’t want to come down to the planet due to something else; whatever species they were, they seemed as strong and fast as Sam, if not more, so wouldn’t they be useful here?   
A bonus to this job was that he actually got clothes for once, although Sam had never seen a heatsuit that looked like a fucking airbike gang’s uniform. That or Lucifer just had a leather kink and wanted to further introduce him to it, which would make too much sense. It did seem to function though, and he didn’t have a shred of skin showing, so Sam couldn’t complain. 

It seemed that although the planet was volcanic, the emission these types of volcanoes produced were sodium and oxygen based rather than sulphur and hydrogen sulphide, which meant that the planet was H-F: Human Friendly. It did mean, though, that instead of ash, these volcanoes produced salt – as they landed, Sam had a sudden, strange thought that it was snow outside and that the giant crystals were ice. Wishful thinking – even with the heatsuit on, the doors opened to a blast of arid air and a tinge of salt. As this wasn’t a space-suit, the filter wouldn’t remove elements that weren’t harmful to humans to a huge extent. But it did have unlimited, recyclable water (he didn’t want to think about that part) and nutrients, so the slight salt shouldn’t make him too thirsty.

For the first time, as Sam turned back toward the ship segment when it departed, he gathered an idea of what The Cage must look like from the outside. Unlike the ship on his holochip necklace (which had been taken from him by the slavers along with everything else he’d had on him in the bar) and the pirate ship that had attacked the Volsung, the exterior was bronze rather than black. There were no skins or limb effigies on this segment at least, but the surface spun with hundreds of symbols. They weren’t the ones from inside the ship either, but in a strange, curved script, sometimes inside patterns or arrangements that reminded Sam of University seals. The shape of the segment was like a claw – domed at one end to a tapered point at the other, but how it would slot into the main ship, Sam could only guess. Well at least he knew what part of The Cage looked like now.

The segment shot out of sight and Sam turned back to the job at hand – nearby, two golems set a slow pace between the segment they’d loaded the cargo into and the lip of a crevasse. Several droids also worked away, but not nearly as many as the ambassador expected. Yes, they only had ten or so golems but they definitely had more droids. Couldn’t pirates provide him a little more help than this? Sam supposed Lucifer ‘had his reasons’, rolled his eyes and strode over to the nearest crate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I guess these next few chapters are just going to be Sam finding out more about his environment and the people in it. I hope his little discoveries are fascinating! c: I would love to hear what you thought of the chapter, it always makes my day to hear from you guys! And a huge, huge thank you to everybody who has already left comments and kudos, I honestly wouldn't be doing this without y'all. You're an inspiration and always have me excited to put up the next chapter. Stay awesome buddies! (~♥˘◡˘♥)~
> 
> If you'd like to support me, you can [check out my novel](https://www.kobo.com/nz/en/ebook/tea-in-the-outback) or [shout me a drink!](https://www.paypal.com/cgi-bin/webscr?cmd=_s-xclick&hosted_button_id=TT3Q6W95QFSM2) ^.^


	10. Curiouser and Curiouser

Sam worked for five hours straight with rests no longer than a couple of minutes. It was the only way he could have done it. If he’d taken a break any longer than that, he would have realized how hot, sore and tired he was and wouldn’t have got back up again. Plus he had his music and a rhythm, and although it was hot and the constant taste of salt was on his tongue, he just powered on through. They’d done condition tests like this for the Sub-Lieutenant run, and if it had taught him anything, it was just to break that wall and keep on going. Lucifer checked in with him every hour to make sure he wasn’t on the brink of death. Of course, he wouldn’t want his pretty slave dying on him, now would he? Sam kinda wondered how much Lucifer had paid for him and why. The Pirate King didn’t know he was John Winchester’s son, so couldn’t have any ransom money in mind. Lucifer did seem besotted with him, but Sam knew for a fact that there were part-Telphousa or Pleasure Planet aliens out there who’d be both more appealing and less trouble. Maybe it had been a whim. Just his luck to be a Pirate King’s fucking whim buy.

During his work, he’d inspected the guns in a random sample of crates and they were all like Lucifer showed him. Some of them were better than others, but Sam couldn’t help wonder why the Syndicate would sell such badly made weapons to the Pjantrae. It was dangerous, and even worse, the Pjantrae had only a basic understanding of plasma weapons, so they wouldn’t be able to tell the difference. Hm.  
Sam picked up the penultimate crate and one of the fresh golems stooped to the last one. Even with a variant of heat suit, the golems seemed more affected by the temperature than him; rumour had it they were made of some sort of living clay or dirt from the Yawh’s planet, so perhaps it would crack them or dry them out or something. Lucifer’s reasoning now made a bit more sense, and perhaps the droids weren’t made for these kinds of conditions either. Just as well they fucking had him wasn’t it?

Sam hauled the crate up around hip height, came to the end of the zipline tether attached to the transport segment to stop him accidentally falling into the chasm, and decompressed the lid. His arm and thighs throbbed with raw muscle ache, his legs juddered and burned if he was still for too longer but this was the last one. The sense of relief neared the one he’d felt on Norja after the peace treaty, and he couldn’t wait to shower, stumble on to the couch and sleep for a goddamn year. Sam reached forward and tapped his comm link with Lucifer, and a slump of secondary relief washed through him at the sight of the empty crates on the segment floor. They must have gone through a few hundred crates, and somehow that felt just so _satisfying_. Of course, it would be better if he got paid or if it wasn’t for fucking pirates, but in a situation like this Sam had to see the positives or he’d have a breakdown again.  
“Lucifer, it’s Sam. We’re done down here.” He sighed into the heat suit as a tremble shivered through his hands and his knees just about collapsed.  
“Aw, you sound tired honey-bun.” The nickname alone told Sam Lucifer was alone, but he didn’t even have the energy to rebuke him. “Come back and have a rest; I’ve cancelled all your work for the next little while.”  
“Whatever.” Sam sighed and collapsed on a seat as a droid flew the segment back to the Cage.

 

After the exhaustion of the day, Sam did not need to be confused as well. The door of the segment didn’t open in the cargo hold where they’d flown down from, but into a hallway. The hallway to Lucifer’s quarters to be precise. How…? Ugh. Right now Sam did not give a shit. He just stumbled through the sliding triangular doors to a thankfully empty room, and for once was more than happy to strip back down to his booty shorts. Chunks of salt sprayed off Sam’s heat suit and his hair seemed coarse, like it went after a long time on the beach. If he hadn’t already been so salty with sweat, his skin would have tasted like a sodium-addict’s dream. Sam somehow had the slight forethought to toss his shorts in the Cleaning System, then pretty much collapsed into the shower with a stunted groan of relief. How long he stayed under the hot water in a kind of stupor, Sam wasn’t sure. But it was so _nice_ , the way the water thrummed on his sore muscles, soaked through him, saved him from cool-down shivers…the only reason Sam left was because if he’d stayed standing any longer, his legs would have just given out. Fuck he wasn’t going to be able to move tomorrow.

The ambassador limped (how do you even limp with both legs?) to the Cleaning System, took a few exhausted fumbles to get what Lucifer seemed to class as dressed, then headed out into the main room, already half asleep. But it didn’t look like that was on the menu quite yet, as Lucifer seemed to have taken a break from the bridge to annoy his ass some more. Sam did consider being a drama queen and just collapsing right there on the spot, but then Lucifer might take the opportunity to fondle his mostly naked body whilst trying to move his deadweight ass off the floor. The fucking things Sam had to put up with.  
“Sam. You did our ship a great service today.” Lucifer didn’t seem to notice Sam’s bleary ‘let me fucking sleep’ glare and paced a little as the ambassador literally held on to the doorframe to keep himself upright. “You worked hard and fast where you could have been sullen and difficult.”  
“I’m not a damn child, Lucifer. When I need to get a job done, I get it done.” Sam grumbled, but didn’t have the energy to be more passionate. “Now can I sleep?”  
“Mm. Lie on my bed, on your front.” Lucifer clicked his fingers and pointed across the room. Sam gripped the wall harder and forced his mind back into Defiant Bastard Mode. No. No way was he lying like that so exhausted. He couldn’t fight Lucifer even if he wanted to. Sam’s tired brain offered that he hadn’t been able to defend himself against Lucifer last night and the Captain hadn’t done anything…but the less temptation, the less opportunity.  
“Fuck off. I’m not doing that.” Sam covered a yawn as his muscles cried at him to take his weight off them. Lucifer gave a frustrated sigh and crossed his arms.  
“Now who’s being a child? It wasn’t a request, it was an order. Now go before I program you.”

Sam considered it for a second, but pure exhaustion won out. He simply didn’t have the strength to fight against programming, and he’d end up in the same place either way. Had he not just tipped over a hundred crates of guns into a volcano, Sam might have made a show of defiance. But logic won out in the end.  
“You’re lucky I’m so damn tired. Or maybe that was your plan all along.” Sam ground out and, through sheer willpower, managed not to stumble on the way across the room. He glanced at the bed, then back at Lucifer. The Captain just followed him, but didn’t watch him – he turned to a storage in the bedframe that Sam hadn’t noticed before. A coil of despair fizzed in Sam’s stomach and he swallowed with nerves, but kept a hold of himself. It’d be like last night. Lucifer wouldn’t do anything to him. It’d be ok. 

The ambassador clambered on to the cover in the most stiff, least sexy way he could think of, in case Lucifer decided to turn around. His body seemed two steps ahead of his mind and immediately flopped at the sensation of the soft fabric and mattress. Despite that, Sam practically jumped out of his skin when he heard the click of a bottle lid.  
“Jeez Sam, calm down. You always think the worst of me.” Lucifer said mildly as he worked his hands together.  
“That’s because you are the worst.” Sam mumbled into a pillow with a glare of defiance. Lucifer snickered, then, for the Universe’s sake, giggled and finally wound up with a wheezing laugh. That laugh was the most honest thing Sam had heard come out his mouth to date, and for some reason it relaxed him a bit.

“Ok, whoo, ok now…” Lucifer caught his breath and perched on the edge of the bed. Before Sam could react, warm, strong fingers eased into a knot of sore muscle on his back and a stunted noise of pain hitched in his throat.  
“Ooh, sorry sweetie, I’ll be gentle with you.” Lucifer teased and smoothed his palms flat across the muscles that throbbed in Sam’s back. They slid with whatever the Captain had covered them with and the ambassador swallowed a sigh of appreciation. Maybe he could allow this, just a little bit.  
“Call me ‘sweetie’ again and I’ll kick your pirate scum ass.” Sam muttered, but his attention was more on how Lucifer seemed to press warmth and tingles through his weary skin. He couldn’t deny it. That was nice. That was fucking wonderful and Sam felt himself melt before his logical brain could veto it.  
“Yes dear.” That asshole smirked even though Sam couldn’t see his face. He didn’t even have the energy to turn and glare.  
The bed seemed to mould to him, merge its soft cover with his skin and a low grunt of gratefulness pushed out his throat as Lucifer’s hands swept across the ache on his mid-back.  
“Aren’t slaves supposed to do things like this to their owners, not the other way around?” Sam tried to cover the noise with a question, but no doubt Lucifer had heard anyway.

There was a shift in weight on the mattress and Sam tensed for a second as he felt Lucifer’s knees either side of his thighs. But the sure fingers now moved with better range across his wide shoulders, so maybe that was all. He really wanted it to be all. Well, at this point, Sam didn’t have any other option than to trust Lucifer. He didn’t like the idea, nor did this mean he’d trust him later, but right now he was just too damn exhausted to care. Sam wondered if the chip linked into his thoughts as well, because it seemed as though Lucifer had read exactly what he needed. Wouldn’t put it past the sneaky son of a bitch.  
“Your reward, mon Cherie. Plus it’ll heal your muscles. This isn’t just any old oil, you know.” There was a chuckle in Lucifer’s voice as Sam made a noise of protest when he eased Sam’s sore left arm into his hands. “Besides, I get to touch these wonderful muscles of yours.”  
Sam snorted into the pillow. If the Captain was anything, he was predictable. The dilemma warred a little in his head. Yes this massage was seventh heaven right now. But would Lucifer take his compliance here as a door into other things? “Oh, ulterior motive much?”  
There was a pause as Lucifer rubbed his raw tricep loose again.  
“Can you blame me?” The Pirate Captain murmured with some kind of reverence. 

The tone and the way Lucifer’s stroked down his back clipped something in Sam. He’d never been spoken to like that. Every whisper, laugh, moan or pleasured cry of his name seemed dull and emotionless in the light of those four words and Sam’s jaw worked around unease at the curious sensation that picked up in his stomach. Not lust, not discomfort (although it should have been), not reciprocation just… he wanted Lucifer to say that again. Sam opened his mouth but thought better of it. Instead he sighed in confusion under Lucifer’s hands as they shivered tingles through his neck.  
“What’s your game, Lucifer?” He mumbled finally, eyes warm and shut. “I will never willingly let you have me the way you want no matter what you do. Are you just treating me nicely until you get bored, and then you’ll do what you like?”

Sam was tired and he just wanted to know. He didn’t want to play pirate mind games. If Lucifer was going to hurt him, he may as well just be up front about it.  
The Captain shifted back, and as if to answer the question, he didn’t even attempt to touch Sam’s ass, but skipped down to the tender muscles in his thighs. A gritty noise from Sam made the touch even more gentle.  
“It was a mistake buying you, it really was.” Lucifer said with a kind of resignation. “You’re too much of a temptation to me, but I’m not an animal. I’m not that kind of man, Sammy, not for you. Just…the other night. I don’t like being woken up, and when I am without good reason, I do irrational things. Sleep is too useful to miss out on.”  
So Lucifer took more offense that he’d woken him up than Sam trying to strangle him? That earned a sardonic huff, but no matter what the Pirate King said…  
“You are the type of man who orders settlements to be destroyed, who has slaves and steals provisions. You’re the kind of man who leaves no survivors.” Sam couldn’t get up a determined ambassador tone though, as blackness threatened to creep over his mind. The bed was so blissful on his wrecked body, and although Lucifer’s massage was just a little too good according to his dick (hey, the symptom, not the one who’d caused it), his entire body almost felt as though it were floating.  
“I have my reasons, Sam.” Lucifer’s voice faded into a kind of musical background hum and despite where he was and who was touching him, Sam just drifted off to sleep.

***

“Sam. Sammy? C’mon my Samshine, time to wake up.” A voice murmured as something shook his shoulder and Sam made a pathetic attempt to swat Dean’s hand away with his eyes still shut.  
“Go ‘way Baldface, I wann’ sleep.” He mumbled into the pillow. Sam had almost slipped away again when his brain clicked on to three things. One: That wasn’t Dean’s gravel-choked voice or his laugh. Two: Dean would rinse his mouth out with ten Peruvian Death Chillies if he ever, even accidentally called Sam ‘Samshine’. Three: Dean’s usual waking-Sam-up method consisted of either heinously loud rock music, cold liquid (sometimes even takeaways) or the sudden reintroduction of the ground to Sam’s sleepy body.  
“C’mon roomie, don’t make me resort to calling you vegetables in French again.” Lucifer insisted and Sam lifted his head for a moment and greeted the Pirate King with a glare-squint combo.  
“Do I get to kill you for waking me up?” Sam managed out, although his voice sounded like he’d been gargling nails.  
“No, but I would love to know who Baldface is.” Lucifer grin-snorted and sat down on the edge of the bed beside Sam with his hands clasped loosely in his lap.  
“My dumbass big brother, that’s who.” Sam gave a huff of annoyance as Lucifer’s fingers reached out and stroked through his hair. “Did you just wake me up to molest me or is this important?”

The Pirate King’s fingers slid away at that. It was a shame, because Sam might actually enjoy that if it wasn’t from a man who’d bought him and dressed him in booty shorts.  
“You didn’t want me to put you on standby or turn you off, so I need you to leave for a little while.” Lucifer said with a gentle voice. Oh.  
“Mmm, fine.” Sam groaned and braced himself for the scream of his muscles as he tried to get up, but everything worked fine. Well, except that ache in his ass muscles, but that he could take because even he would feel cruel presenting his perky bare ass to Lucifer to rub down with healing oil when the guy had such hots for him. A tingle ran up his back at the imagined sensation, at how Lucifer’s calculative eyes would go soft and heavy lidded…Sam glanced up at the blonde then back down, then mentally slapped himself. No. Asshole Pirate King remember? He wasn’t even allowed to think about thinking about thinking about anything remotely sexual concerning him unless it was a great big fat no.  
“You’re so cute when you’re sleepy.” Lucifer smirked and crossed his arms as Sam hauled himself up to sit beside the Captain. Maybe he crossed his arms so much to stop his hands being wayward.  
“I’ll show you how cute – “ Sam broke off into a yawn. “ – a slap in the face is.”  
“Definitely kinkier by the day.” Lucifer took in Sam’s eye-roll with a smug little expression. “How’re you feeling anyway?”  
Sam just tested his shoulders and arms a little, then nodded. “Yeah. Fine. I didn’t think I’d be able to move properly so thanks I guess.”

The credit was out of Sam’s mouth before he realized it. He couldn’t start being nice to Lucifer. The Pirate King would think he’d gone soft. Lucifer’s heel tapped the lip of the bedframe as he sat with one knee up (seriously, could this guy not sit like a normal humanoid?) and a happy smile crept across his face. It was almost cute. Almost.  
“Well, I can’t say I suffered exactly.” There was the douchebag Sam knew. He was glad he’d missed the predictable ‘shower while jacking off thinking about Sam’s mostly-naked, oil-covered body’ Lucifer had probably taken while he was asleep. The ambassador had no idea just how right he was.  
“Anyway, although I love our little chats, I do need a bit of me time.” Lucifer smirked because the bastard knew he’d phrased it to sound like they were boyfriends.  
“You know, you can have all the me time you like.” Sam pointed at the door with a feigned expression of sincerity. “I can just go and never come back, you know, you could just drop me off somewhere and it’ll be me time paradise.”  
“If I did that, who would so skilfully make me dinner?” Lucifer stood, and wandered over to the door with an expectant look. Well, for once the Pirate King was asking him to leave. He couldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth. There was a slight tug of something in his chest, but Sam didn’t want to dwell on it. He didn’t want to analyse whatever that was. So the ambassador left Lucifer alone to do whatever secrets he had to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if this chapter's a bit short! I split one huge one into two parts D: Sam and Lucifer build a few more bridges ;) Ahh, I enjoy writing Lucifer and Sam's interactions so much. Any guesses as to what Lucifer does in his alone time? :P And if you're in the mood for some satanic smut, the next fic in my If Lucifer Was My Boyfriend is up, so go check that out! ^.^ Thank you so much for reading, and thank you so much for all the comments and kudos y'all have left! ♥ I would love to hear what you thought of the chapter, it always makes my day more than I can say to hear from you guys. Legit, every time I see a comment I get so happy, even if it's just one word x) Stay awesome buddies!  
> *:..｡o○\\( ͡° ͜/// ͡° )/○o｡..:*  
> If you'd like to support me, you can [check out my novel](https://www.kobo.com/nz/en/ebook/tea-in-the-outback) or [shout me a drink!](https://www.paypal.com/cgi-bin/webscr?cmd=_s-xclick&hosted_button_id=TT3Q6W95QFSM2) ^.^


	11. Ruby.

Sam took the opportunity of his free time to study The Cage some more. The only thing he knew held stationary in the ship was the engines but the other parts – the guns, the crew quarters, the labs, the Medical Section (if this crew even needed a Medical Section), the bridge etc – all seemed to move about in the segments they were contained in. He’d never heard of a ship so fluid and full of constant change, but the crew seemed to handle it somehow. Sam still couldn’t access certain areas: although he assumed the pirate ship had weapons, he had no idea what they were or where; the engine room was in the same place, but what kind of drive it used Sam couldn’t guess without access. But he’d stick with it. If there was a door to slip through or something, he’d take it because the more he knew, the easier it would be to escape and pass the information on to Dean. Of course, Sam didn’t exactly blend in with his outfit to scope out these things, but if he didn’t try, he wouldn’t succeed.

“Hey – Sam, right?” The short, black-haired pilot Sam had seen in what he assumed was the helm position paused in the corridor on her way by. “I heard Lucifer call you that on the bridge.”  
“Yeah, Sam. That’s me.” He folded his arms over is chest with a look of wary consideration. If this lady followed the trend of the rest of the crew, she either wanted to do a Slaver-Bitch and kill him or get in his leather booty shorts.  
“I’m Ruby, Head Coxswain of the Cage.” She offered him a friendly smile, but Sam noted she made no move to even come close to him. Not that it made him trust her, but it was nice to not have to consider prepping a right hook all the time. “You did a great job on the planet today – cut the work time down almost a third of what it would have taken with golems.”  
“So Lucifer tells me.” He wasn’t sure where this was headed; she must want something, something from him. Information on the Syndicate, maybe dirt on Lucifer, or maybe to just ogle him, he wasn’t sure.  
“I bet you haven’t eaten since your job, huh?” Ruby pointed down the hall, and Sam suddenly realized he hadn’t had anything but liquefied nutrients all day. “You could come down to the mess hall…”  
“What, and get catcalled by the crew every two minutes?” Sam huffed and rolled his eyes. Ruby didn’t seem so blatantly bad, and maybe a few friends or people he could use to effect an escape might come in handy. Being the Head Coxswain, the pilot, she might be useful.  
“And risk Lucifer’s wrath? He doesn’t give two warnings, and he’s warned us off you already.” Ruby shrugged and started down the hall. Sam followed and wasn’t sure whether to feel thankful to the Pirate King or disgruntled at the fact he’d basically been turned into a claimed piece of territory. Both really. 

“About that…I mean, of course I’ve been on spaceships before, but I’ve never seen a crew with so much…” Sam fished for the word as they waited for an elevator. “Reverence for their captain, I guess.”  
“Well, Lucifer is our god.” Ruby said in such an offhand way that Sam had to run the sentence over in his head a few times to make sure he’d heard it right. She raised her neat eyebrows at him in the stunned silence.  
“What??” Sam found his voice, and the elevator doors hushed open in front of them. Well, with an ego like Lucifer’s he wouldn’t put it past the captain to brainwash his crew into some kind of weird idol-religion…  
“He created us. With science, magic, power, only Lucifer could explain and I doubt any of us could understand it if he did.” Ruby raised her eyes, just like the red-headed bitch had done back when Sam had woken up in his pen. “He is our Father, we are his children. Some of us choose to serve him out of love, others out of fear and adoration, others for just a taste of his presence. We are drawn to his light like the Geqwane to Sunburst Orbs and he fills us with hope and courage.”

They did have the same Captain in mind, right? The douchebag who chucked his underwear at Sam and called him vegetable pet names in French? Then again, there had always been something off about Lucifer, something deeper.  
“He _created_ you?” Sam gestured at Ruby as the elevator slid to a stop. Unauthorized cloning or growth of most aliens was forbidden, but it would just add to the depths of Lucifer’s crimes to have grown himself a pirate army and brainwashed them to serve him. “But you’re humanoid, so you mean he grew you, right? In a lab.”  
“Oh, this is humanoid, definitely, with all the perks of one too.” Ruby gestured at her body and winked as they headed down a new hallway toward a large pair of silver doors Sam hadn’t seen before. Did all the crew have a flirt directive embedded into their brains, or did they just absorb the lusty vibes from their captain? “But me…”  
The coxswain stopped with a smug smile and turned to face Sam – well as much as her height would allow. “I look like this.”

Ruby opened her mouth and blew out a soft whirl, not of air, but what looked like dense black smoke. As she did, the black crept up over her eyes until they held no colour, not even the whites around the iris. Sam took an involuntary step back, eyes wide. They were _occupant_ aliens? Creatures that stole hosts to live in as they had no corporeal forms of their own. No wonder the crew looked so human. They were human. At least their bodies. But occupant aliens were rare, half of them were non-sentient, and most only took over a body to mate in. Sentient occupants were often rejected, even exterminated by most societies because they often didn’t need the bodies they stole but did it anyway. Shit. If all of Lucifer’s pirates were occupant aliens, it would be nigh impossible to track them, as they could body-hop. He might even have spies in the Syndicate and everyone would be none the wiser.  
“Lucifer calls us his little stormclouds. Cute, don’t you think?” Ruby smiled as she hid herself back down that ill-fated woman’s gullet, and the black eyes melted back to brown. They reached the doors which slid open to reveal a long, neat room that resembled pretty much every single mess hall Sam had experienced on a ship; long metal tables, producers at the end of each and benches to sit on. The M-shift crew who didn’t carry-over seemed to be here for dinner, but although Sam received a swarm of hungry eyes, no-one voiced their opinions. Yeah, ok, he really was glad Lucifer had put out a restriction notice.

“How about her, huh? How about the poor woman you’re walking around in?” Sam growled and tried not to think on her other implications. That Lucifer had _made_ these creatures. No. He’d just mutated some other occupants. No-one, no matter how much science or research they put behind themselves had ever played god and succeeded. Those biological creation experiments were outlawed anyway, from both the moral and destructive repercussions they’d had. Research had gone into AI and droids instead. Ruby led him up to a Producer and tapped in what she wanted to order without even a bat of her long-lashed eyes at his exasperation.  
“Pretty, isn’t she. Died in a raid a little while ago, so she’s not in here anymore. Shame though. She was entertaining.” Ruby picked at her leather jacket (Jeez, everyone was into goddamn leather, weren’t they?) and Sam gritted his teeth in disbelief. These pirates got worse by the second. He was tempted to just turn around and leave, but his only other option was the cargo-hold, which didn’t have a Producer – droids brought him his nutrition during the day and meals like lunch or dinner he usually ate after he’d served Lucifer from Lucifer’s Producer. So the ache in his belly kept him on track, plus Ruby did seem useful for information (if a bit on the bias side). 

He ordered Ben-Quong-Ghee and took the seat opposite the coxswain with a bitchface in reply to her last comment.  
“You know, I’ve never seen Lucifer take to someone like he has with you.” Ruby seemed to take it from the expression that a change in subject was needed.  
“Like he has with me? What, does he allow the slaves he usually buys to wear clothes?” Sam huffed and took a bite a little too violently, then carried on the vehemence because holy shit _food_.  
“No, he’s never bought a slave before.” Ruby frowned and looked at him as though he might hold secrets. “Well, you know, apart from the usual labour and such.”  
“So I’m the first one. Just my luck.” Gawd. He was _totally a whim buy_. At least he wasn’t the latest in a chain of Lucifer’s sex slaves though. Ruby continued to look at him like a puzzle she wanted to solve, but there really wasn’t any puzzle except that Sam had a smokin’ ass and Lucifer was a flighty bastard.  
“Look, I don’t know why either, Ruby.” Sam sighed when his mouth wasn’t full. “I don’t even think he knows why apart from the fact that apparently I’m a hot piece of ass.”  
“Well, he’s got that bit right.” Ruby shrugged and received the Done Faceᵀᴹ.  
“Really? Come on, there must be someone on this ship who thinks I look like a potato.” Sam grumbled and noted with disappointment his food was almost gone. Well, he could just have some more after Lucifer ate if he was still hungry. That should be soon, actually. Either his programming was going to kick in during the next few minutes or maybe Lucifer would have the huge amount of energy it took to push three buttons left to spare him of menial tasks.

“I’m pretty sure Abaddon hates you on principle that you’re human. And Crowley thinks you look like a moose, but I’m not sure whether that’s a compliment or not.” Ruby took a bite and Sam ignored the few crew who had turned around in their chairs to look at him.  
“Abaddon?”  
“Red hair, Raid Chief and Mistress of Slaves?” Ruby offered and Sam nodded as he presumed it was Red-Headed Bitch from day one.  
“Yeah, I know her.” He swiped up any leftover sauce with his fork and was left a little torn – should he go make Lucifer dinner? The bastard might forget to eat if Sam didn’t sit down and watch him. Then the ambassador checked himself. Seriously? Was he feeling _worried_ about Captain Douchebag?  
“Hey, Lucifer seems to have some time completely alone every day. Do you know what he does?” Sam felt that while Ruby was talking, he may as well ask what he was curious about. Next he might try for information about the guns and engines, but he’d ease her into it first.  
“No-one does except maybe Crowley. Lilith and Azazel would too, I guess, but they’re not aboard The Cage.” She shrugged and picked up a mug of Blue Li. “They were among the first Lucifer created so they’ve been with him longer than we have.”  
Sam still didn’t buy the ‘Lucifer creating life’ thing, but he doubted that the Captain would tell him the truth.  
“So – “

Food Service: Captain’s Quarters. 5 minutes.

Oh, that asshole. Seriously?? After everything he’d done today?  
“You still in there, Sam?” Ruby must have noticed his eyes had gone out of focus and he probably looked like he wanted to stab a certain someone with his fork.  
“Yes.” Sam sniped and gathered up his bowl. “I have to go now. His Majesty calls.”  
Even though Sam said that with the most amount of sarcasm that was humanely possible, Ruby still probably took it as reverence.  
“You’re so lucky to be that close to him, you know?” The black-haired coxswain sighed with a wistful look.   
“Lucky.” Sam snorted. “Huh. Well you can have my job any time you like.”  
The ambassador rolled his eyes and set off to do the huge, overwhelming task of pushing three goddamn buttons.

 

Lucifer was in his usual spot when Sam marched back into the Captain’s quarters. Well, usual as in today the Pirate King had decided to totally forgo his chair today and perch on the table.  
“Tables are for glasses, not for asses.” Sam grouched as he stalked past toward the Producer.  
“Good thing I don’t have any glasses then.” Lucifer said in a distracted kind of way as he focussed on something on his MD. Sam was half-positive that the Captain just played some sort of mindless match-three puzzle game most of the time to look busy. He really didn’t know what it was about Lucifer. With Ruby he could be deceptive and probing. With arguing aliens, he could be calm and a problem-solver. Even with John, he was savage but with a kind of cruel control. But Lucifer just made him a sassy hoe without any end game. Why? Who knew. 

Sam ordered Gereesh today and plonked it down beside the blonde.  
“Apparently you created the crew.” Sam hadn’t meant to ask with such bluntness, but it just sort of came out.  
“Mmm.” Lucifer swiped something and Sam’s game suspicions grew.  
“Created as in made new biological life.” The ambassador crossed his arms, half annoyed at how whatever was on Lucifer’s MD seemed to be of more importance than the man he’d used hard-earned pirate credits to buy. That sensation pulled at the ambassador’s chest again, and Sam swatted it away with an outward frown of annoyance.  
“Who told you that?” The Captain said idly without even a glance at him. If Ruby got in trouble for telling him info, then she’d clam up about anything else Sam needed to know. So, stubborn bastard literally trained in the skill of argument that he was, Sam held his ground.  
“Does it matter? Is it true?” He pressed and moved right in front of Lucifer. Could the asshole just pay him some fucking attention? It was the least he deserved right now.  
“Would you believe me if I said yes?” Lucifer tapped something out, somehow still utterly absorbed in what he was doing. If it _was_ a game, Sam was getting the strangulation belt out again.

Sam clenched his jaw, unsure how to respond. ‘No’ was the answer, but that would just prove Lucifer right and highlight that he was asking stupid questions.  
“That’s not possible. How?” Sam moved just a bit closer, to see if Lucifer would look up, but he seemed either intentionally oblivious to piss Sam off for some reason or generally oblivious.  
“Magic. Or maybe I’m a god.” The blonde alien glanced up, and seemed to notice Sam only a foot away. The younger Winchester snorted with incredulity that Lucifer’s ego really did extend to considering himself a god. Gods didn’t exist, in Sam’s opinion. They were just more advanced aliens with better technology who certainly didn’t plunder the charted star systems looking like a middle-aged leather fetishist and had problems dropping some puny guns into a volcano.  
“Then again, you could be too, looking like that.” Lucifer’s lazy blue eyes fell on his chest, then worked up over his shoulders to his face. Sam pushed down something a little satisfied that he’d got Lucifer’s undivided attention again and rolled his eyes.  
“Unlike you, I do have some idea of the definition of humility, so forgive me if I deny that one.”  
Lucifer frowned and tilted his head just a little as his index finger tapped at the stubbled side of his lip, like he couldn’t figure something out.

“You’re…hm.” The Captain didn’t finish, but caught Sam’s gaze and the ambassador realized that this was the first time they’d really _looked_ at each other without it being a glaring match. Sam stilled, but it wasn’t out of fear. He noticed how Lucifer’s eyes were naturally heavy-lidded, which made him look languid and nonchalant most of the time. There were small lines of age on his face that somehow made him seem more expressive, his cupid’s bow was defined in a wide charismatic curve, and the rough shade of stubble framed the Captain’s lips and cheekbones. For a second, Sam was confronted by the sudden desire to stroke his thumb along it, feel the texture. But he’d already felt it, pressed up against his neck as Lucifer had pinned him. 

That slammed him back down to reality. He couldn’t look at Lucifer like this. Sam couldn’t entertain even the thought that Lucifer might be attractive because the worst, uncontrollable fathoms of his subconscious would pick up on it and send his mind there. And after what had to be at least a month without even jacking off, his body might follow and then everything would go to utter shit one way or another.  
“Hm. Time for me to sleep, I think.” Lucifer broke eye contact just before Sam could look away and hopped off the table. Which made the ambassador realize something else.  
“Oh no you don’t.” Sam snapped his fingers and pointed at the chair, and the Captain’s eyebrows flew up at his tone. “Don’t give me that damn look either. Now sit down and eat your food. I bet you didn’t even eat lunch today without me serving it.”  
Lucifer stared at the bowl as if he’d forgotten food was even a thing, then his lips curved into a playful smirk.  
“Aw Sammy, you do care about me, you mother hen, you.”  
Wow, Sam hadn’t heard that expression from anyone but Bobby it was so old.   
“I wasted a good five seconds of my life pushing those buttons, so you’d better damn enjoy it.” Sam looked pointedly at the chair, and to his surprise Lucifer just sat down (like an actual normal person for once) and pulled his food over.

 

After Lucifer had eaten, donned new clothes and collapsed into bed, Sam curled up on the couch with a crunchy noodle salad and pulled up his interactive screen again. His chip couldn’t have an isolated network system if Lucifer and Crowley could contact him on it, and it would have to interface with the ship on some level to calibrate his work and the directions it needed to send him in. Even if it only had minimal access, he might be able to find some sort of map of The Cage and hack into the ship’s display screen at least. 

Sam learned very quickly that anything do to with his own functions and programming was locked behind vicious safety protocols: the ambassador tried to hack it, then there had been a small click in the back of his brain and he’d woken up twenty minutes later covered in fucking salad with a warning that a report had been sent to his master. Shit. That was both damn annoying, uncomfortable (he’d rather have pain than just be snapped off) and…hopefully Lucifer wouldn’t be pissed at him. Sam glanced over at the prone form on the bed, but judging from the fact that the ambassador still had all his limbs, the MD alert hadn’t woken Lucifer up. Well, he’d just figure out the basics before he tried to reroute a complex output disruption for the defence code. So Sam hunkered down and tapped away until he had at least the ship’s display screen at his disposal. The mapping system seemed to be external from the chip – Sam guessed it was updated every day by the ship’s System Manager or a Structural Manager and then sent out. But with the character of The Cage, who really knew?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Domestic life continues. I would love to hear what you thought of the chapter - theories and revelations are my favourite thing! :D Next chapter shit hits the fan a little (guess how!), so be prepared for that one :P But thanks everyone for all your comments and kudos so far, y'all are amazing and I love you all! Stay awesome buddies ฅ(＾・ω・＾ฅ)∫
> 
> If you'd like to support me, you can [check out my novel](https://www.kobo.com/nz/en/ebook/tea-in-the-outback) or [shout me a drink!](https://www.paypal.com/cgi-bin/webscr?cmd=_s-xclick&hosted_button_id=TT3Q6W95QFSM2) ^.^


	12. One Step Forward, Two Steps Back

A week and a half passed without much event. Sam settled into his routine – get up, make Lucifer breakfast, eat when Lucifer left, tidy the Captain’s quarters, work, bring Lucifer’s food to the bridge, work, serve Lucifer dinner, take care of the Captain’s clothes, eat his own dinner and sleep again. For most of the week, the cargo labour consisted of a very thorough clean of the gun crates, the golems, droids and the crate segment. It was interesting – none of the crew, not even Abaddon came near any of it until they’d been cleaned at least four times. Additional to this, Sam noted that the food in Lucifer’s Producer seemed to have the normal amount of sodium in it, whereas what the droids brought him during the day had none that he could taste. Which meant, by his logic, that the crew must be highly allergic to sodium. Something to keep in mind for an escape, although even Lucifer’s Producer wasn’t programmed for pure salt. 

The rest of the week they’d shifted the crates back, the ship had docked into an Forlutian Mining Station, melted them down into ore and the pirates had sold it off at a presumably steep price at the next Trade Outpost. It was interesting to note – Lucifer must be quite the ambassador himself if he managed to persuade Forlutians to let him use their smelting facilities, but Sam hadn’t been able to even watch what went on; Lucifer had gone down alone, so the ship’s main display screen hadn’t been any use. Forlutians were very self-contained and prized their independency and reclusive nature and Sam wondered what Lucifer had bargained with to get them in there. The Captain had just sent him a wink and said ‘I just have a way with words’ which earned him an eye roll.  
Which led him to Lucifer.

Even though he kept his guard up, Lucifer gave him no reason to. The Captain still flirted and admired Sam’s body without shame, but it became more of a routine than a threat. Lucifer would compliment him, Sam would sass the bastard and Lucifer would sass him right back. The ambassador didn’t want to call it fun but even though he tried to deny it, he half looked forward to their exchanges over breakfast and dinner. Sam had also managed to shove down the Lucifer-might-possibly-maybe-be-attractive shit and bury it in a focus on trying to hack his chip more. He didn’t allow himself to even think of glancing at the Captain as he got undressed every night; Sam laid out Lucifer’s clothes before he finished dinner and collected the discarded ones when Lucifer was in bed. Every time he did it though, Sam had to ignore the voice that told him he was actively doing this, so Lucifer must be a temptation in some way. No. Lucifer was a pirate, a cold killer and a force of destruction. Even if he did look outwardly…attractive (grudgingly admitted), the things he’d done, the things he’d commanded be done… 

Concerning the chip, Lucifer hadn’t even scolded him for his attempts, didn’t say anything at all in fact. Perhaps Lucifer had expected him to try, but that must mean the Captain knew Sam was able to code from the get go. And he’d still bought him? The ambassador still hadn’t gotten around to asking Lucifer about that one though – it just seemed to slip his mind or get lost in their snark.  
But other than that, the chip was severely limited in interface, to Sam’s disappointment. His programming didn’t let him rest long enough to access the external signal to hack into The Cage’s map system: as it turned out the source was so highly protected that it would take weeks, even months working on the code to get through. Sam had never seen a firewall like it, and he wondered who the heck had programmed it because they were a stone cold genius. But he had the display screen, a channel he thought was the open ship communications, entertainment systems, and the ever-so-helpful Emergency Procedure. Sam had thought he’d struck gold when he’d seen the file – it might tell him how to disconnect and operate a segment properly, or learn where any escape pods might be. But all it said was: Keep calm and have faith in Lucifer. It even had a little picture of a person on their knees in supplication. That fucking arrogant asshole. 

Besides that brilliant discovery, Sam worked on hacking his own programming, taking notes and progress down on the chip's handy inbuilt notebook feature before he slept every N-shift. If all went well and it didn’t have a backup protection, he’d be able to crack it in the next few weeks. 

***

Sam had just finished a full clean of Lucifer’s chambers like he did every three days and had headed out into the corridor as all of a sudden side lights along the hallway and doors snapped red. Either Lucifer had got some new mood lighting to make this place resemble the mythological Christian Hell even more or something was happening. Although, Sam didn’t hear any announcements…then again, now that he thought on it, he never heard any announcement on this ship. Perhaps everyone relied on their MDs? But that seemed a bit risky. The blue line that Sam’s programming told him to follow toward whatever the heck the cargo-hold would have in store for him today shut off.

Sam – Please go to our quarters and stay there until I tell you otherwise. It is of the utmost importance.

\- Lucifer.

A little nice buzz ran through Sam at the word ‘our’ rather than ‘my’ before he could kick it into check. It was odd little things like that which made Lucifer hard to dislike and easy to get a weird kind of fond of. Sam pressed the tick to show he’d seen it and brought up the ship’s main display screen out of curiosity, then froze. 

Those were Syndicate ships. Syndicate Food Aid transport vessels with a protective convoy. The Cage must be on Red Alert, but they weren’t in danger, which meant Battle Stations. Lucifer was about to attack a Food Aid convoy. That was barely a step above a Medical Transport in immorality. The fact that he’d so conveniently forgotten that Lucifer did this, went for soft targets, would kill every last one of those Aid workers hit Sam like a frozen wall of water and brought him up short. Lucifer was not nice. Lucifer was bloodthirsty and cruel, and he’d lulled Sam into somehow believing otherwise.  
The ambassador gritted his teeth with rage as he stood in the red-lit hallway. No, he couldn’t, he couldn’t let this happen. Not while he was on board this damn ship. Even if Lucifer killed him, if he even had a chance to save everyone aboard those vessels, he’d take it. So Sam found the weird tailed-three symbol that he figured led to the bridge and headed down the corridor as fast as he could.

_It is too soon. This is war, and in war there are prices to be paid. I don’t have enough to end this. I don’t have enough to determine a true weakness, and I will only get one shot. I need more time. He needs more time. Soon, together, we will finish what needs to be finished and reap the rewards. Ah, the rewards – the rewards of this war will outweigh the losses. I am certain. But it is too soon, and I must stand by and wait._

***

Lucifer watched the convoy like an unseen tiger might watch a baby antelope from the long grass. Even with four gunships, this would hardly be a challenge. The Food Shipment had reached orbit around Cantaya Lambda a little earlier than expected, but a fight in planetary orbit wouldn’t be so hard; the Cantayals were peaceful and low tech, so the Syndicate vessels wouldn’t be getting any help.  
_Scarabs secure?_ Lucifer reached out to Abaddon, his Raid Chieftain. She was one of his most raw, violent creations, which was why he kept her dealing with droids and golems most of the time when they weren’t in raids. But in a fight, he’d seen her cut through an entire ship by herself; that’s why Lucifer kept her under his command. On anyone else’s ship Abaddon would devolve into a loose cannon of violence. His presence was the only one that could truly harness her, give her direction.  
“Secure.” She replied. “First parties ready for distraction before The Sphere.”  
_Excellent._ Lucifer was just about to open his mind and give the go command when the bridge doors opened and who strode in but Sam, like he was born to be there. For a second, everyone on the bridge, himself included, just stopped in confusion, and in that second Sam reached the closest panel to him and pushed the first buttons he found. Which just happened to be the auxiliary launch for one of the prepped segments. Whether it was luck or whether Sam recognized auxiliary launch controls from whatever ships he’d served on, Lucifer had no clue, but the damage was done.  
“Sam!” Lucifer snarled, but it was far too late; the segment shot out of the ship and ploughed straight into the rear gunship of the convoy with the speed and accuracy they were renowned for. 

The Captain sensed the convoy shields snap up and weapons train on their cloaked position as the gunship spiralled toward the planet.  
“I won’t let you kill them. Now they’ve been warned.” The human bastard didn’t even look at him, but reached for the next panel. Lucifer didn’t give second warnings, and this crossed the line. He didn’t get up. He didn’t yell at his pet again. With one cold flick of his wrist, Sam vanished, hurled back into their chambers hard enough to have some bruises to remember this by and Lucifer dead sealed the door.  
_Attack formation Web, shields are up. Engage immediately._ Lucifer growled to every Raid Segment, and from the tone of his voice, they know not to question what had happened. He threw Sam to the back of his mind and focussed on the task at hand with cold clarity. “Ruby, evasive manoeuvres, get those weapon tracks off us.”

As the segments shot out of the main ship body, Ruby dropped plunged them down the moment before beams of plasma from the three remaining gunships tried a crossfire. Lucifer reached out and shielded a few of the segments that would have got caught in the blasts. The Cage spun underneath the bulk of the carriers, into a position they’d pulled a hundred times. The benefit of no survivors meant no one learned their attacks.  
_Segments 4 through 8 draw the gunships, laser Web engage, Forlorn Hope inside._ Lucifer commanded to all units, and Demelza fired their lasers, while the other ships in position did the same. Any, less organized formation might fry each other, but Lucifer’s stormclouds were better than Syndicate pilots – he’d made sure of that. A web of death criss-crossed around the convoy, and two gunships on the tail of the distraction segments were sliced into pieces in a burst of plasma as the segments led them straight to the lasers. It wasn’t them Lucifer was after anyway. _Abaddon, take care of that last gunship. Forlorn Hope engage._

Twenty smaller segments that had hung like icicles beneath the laser cage dropped down, straight through the shields and cut through the hulls like butter; it was a matter of priority; the Forlorn Hope segments either had all their power directed into weapons or directed into Lucifer’s self-developed vibra-shielding which sliced through everything it hit or that hit it, and today the shields worked a charm. The scythes on Abaddon’s segment hooked the last gunship and that meant boarding; Lucifer didn’t envy the crew that got to deal with her personally.  
_Forlorn Hope, release the Scarabs, get those shields down and withdraw._ The Scarabs would clean up any life-forms on board that their programming directed them to, while the eager crew members who’d volunteered for the FH would probably kill some Syndicate scum too and take the shields out. 

It took about 10 minutes in total before Lucifer could only feel his crew members aboard. The shields snapped off, and Lucifer gave the command to disengage the laser web. The two carriers now hung, dead husks in space as the FH withdrew.  
_Salvage, get those hull breaches fixed. Cargo segments, board and take all we can carry from Carrier One. I wanted both Carriers prepared for trading in two days’ time._ It was simple procedure now. Even the segment that Sam had jettisoned had shaken the gunship to its demise on the planet surface.  
“Crowley, did the ships have time to send out a distress signal?” Lucifer turned to his second in command, tone clipped, because they both knew whose fault that had been. If Lucifer had been more careful with Sam that would have been much cleaner. How had he let himself be lulled into a false sense of security like that? Sam was Syndicate and should never have had access to the bridge. No matter how they danced around each other in private, the real world put them on opposite sides of the chessboard and Lucifer mentally kicked himself for letting his own indulgencies endanger his crew.

“They tried, but I scrambled it. It should take three days for the Syndicate to get it, never mind decode it.” Crowley’s words left what was unsaid unsaid, but his tone spoke more. Even others in the bridge crew glanced at each other; they knew he hadn’t killed Sam, even though he deserved as much. Despite that, Lucifer knew he couldn’t execute his slave, and the crew were possibly beginning to guess he had a weakness for the man that extended beyond looks. That might lead to jealousy in a best case scenario. So he couldn’t let this pass, and Lucifer didn’t want to let this pass.  
“Excellent work Crowley. Notify me of any disturbances and when the cargo extraction is completed. I have a problem to…deal with.” None of them missed the ice in his tone on the word ‘deal’. It was time Sam learned his lessons, and Lucifer had the perfect way to teach them.

The second Lucifer unsealed the doors and stepped through, a solid punch snapped his head sideways. It didn’t hurt, but didn’t help his mood.  
“You fucking sick, murderous b – “ Sam choked off as Lucifer swatted his next strikes aside and grabbed him by the throat. With one fluid movement, he turned them both around and slammed the tall human against the wall.  
“Never ever do that again, do you hear me?” He growled and gave this jackass a shake, but the defiance never burned down in Sam’s eyes.  
“I wish – hgk – they’d killed you.” Sam gasped out as his fingers clawed against Lucifer’s arm without effect. “You – agk – deserve it. You deserve worse.”

Those bare feet kicked against the wall as the human scrambled for some kind of support. Lucifer’s lips thinned in anger, but didn’t let go or crush Sam’s throat, just held him as he thrashed for air. Sam didn’t understand and he would never even try to understand if Lucifer taught him a lesson here and now with pain. That would just harden the hatred in those eyes into something unbreakable. No, the Syndicate had done this, as they’d done so much. They’d taken this fiery stallion, set him on a course and let him charge, but somehow never broken him, even in the military. Now this unbroken thing had fixed on the only thing he knew and burned with it. Lucifer didn’t know how Sam had kept such spirit and he didn’t know why, but Lucifer would break Sam, like he would break them. So the Pirate King dropped his slave in a gasping heap between him and the wall and got ready to deal his hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Space battles! :D I know some of you were looking forward to one, so here ya go n.n The Cliffhangers Begin. I'm so bad with that, lol, sorry :P But I would love to know what you thought of the chapter! What might happen next, what Lucifer's plan is, what the Italic text is about...;) It's been awesome hearing your theories so far! As always, thank you so much to everyone who's left kudos and comments - your comments really make my day...like I'm uber super duper busy at the moment and things get kinda stressful and then I see a lovely comment and everything's not so bad again. ♥ But anyway, I hope you enjoyed and stay awesome buddies! ✧ ─=≡Σ((( つ°ω°)つ
> 
> If you'd like to support me, you can [check out my novel](https://www.kobo.com/nz/en/ebook/tea-in-the-outback) or [shout me a drink!](https://www.paypal.com/cgi-bin/webscr?cmd=_s-xclick&hosted_button_id=TT3Q6W95QFSM2) ^.^


	13. Cantaya Lambda

Glared wasn’t a strong enough word. Sam’s anger boiled up inside him and seemed to vent in violent heat behind his eyes at the sick bastard who stood over him. He’d kill him. He’d wouldn’t rest until either Lucifer was dead or Sam was dead because they were right. This man, this _thing_ that looked like a man was evil and to call him Satan was kind. Lucifer had killed everyone aboard. Aid Transports held 100 crew each, with ten crew in each gunship. That made two hundred and forty casualties on Lucifer’s bloody hands already, not to mention those he’d starve because he wanted to plunder and sell.  
Sam had watched it all. He had no idea how Lucifer had sent him back to the Captain’s chambers – experimental teleport or whether he’d just turned Sam off and the ambassador had woken up. But it hadn’t felt like that. It had been flawless and _immediate_. Then the Pirate King had sliced the gunships to pieces and hollowed out the carriers without even so much as a flicker of guilt. There was nothing but ice in Lucifer’s eyes now and it seemed hard enough to withstand the fire in Sam’s. He had nothing to say – there was nothing to say about the horrific loss of life that Lucifer didn’t even seem to think of as wrong.

Without a word, Lucifer turned his back on Sam and left the chamber. The ambassador didn’t even try and follow – the evil sonofabitch would have sealed and locked it behind him anyway. To Sam’s surprise, the Captain re-entered the room with what seemed like…two Syndicate trader uniforms.  
“Put this on.” Lucifer’s voice left no room for argument, but the bastard would have to cut his tongue out before he gave up. Sam glowered at the garment and let it hang in Lucifer’s hand.  
“Go to whatever Hell will take you, you evil bastard.” The ambassador spat and braced his hands against the floor in case Lucifer kicked him or went for his throat again.  
Lucifer tilted his head like a bird of prey that sees movement. Sharp, calculative, cold. “Put it on or I will program you.”  
Sam just grimaced, then took a leaf out of his earlier self’s book and spat at the Pirate King. “Program me then. I’ll fight it every step of the way.”  
“I’m sure you will.” Lucifer’s lips pressed in a thin line and he dropped both uniforms on the ground in favour of his MD. Sam would take the pain in memory of the two-hundred and forty crew members Lucifer had slaughtered. He braced his mind and body, because this was the path he chose, right now. The path of defiance and a loyalty to his cause of pacifism. He’d chosen this right now? No, Sam had chosen this the moment he’d signed up to the School of Diplomacy. To be a martyr and stand between a fire and a forest with only defiance and words to put it out.

Lucifer finished and stowed his MD away as the chip’s hold swelled out through Sam’s body. But it didn’t hurt when Sam tried to resist. It didn’t punish him in any way. He just moved, couldn’t help how he reached out for the uniform or stood to dress. Could only seethe in mute silence at Lucifer’s back as the Captain pulled on the same outfit over his usual gear. It was worse. Sam had wanted to hurt, he’d wanted to be punished because he’d failed to save them too. He’d wanted Lucifer to watch his pain, but the Captain had stripped him of that too.

The pirate turned back to him, having collected something from his drawer, and those eyes laser focussed on Sam’s. The ambassador thought he saw a tinge of sadness there, but that would make no fucking sense.  
“I don’t like to see you like this, and I didn’t want to resort to it. But there is no other way you will let me show you.” Lucifer reached forward and Sam sickened inwardly at the fact that he couldn’t move. He couldn’t even twist his face into revulsion, but Lucifer didn’t grope him. The Captain slotted a universal translator into his ear for some reason and strode off toward the door in his stolen or faked Syndicate uniform. No matter how hard he tried, Sam couldn’t stop the movement of his feet as his body followed, like he was chained to Lucifer by an invisible leash. Whatever Lucifer wanted him to see, Sam wanted no part in it. He’d lose himself in thoughts of where Dean might be searching, whether he’d made a move on that dorky Commander yet, how Brady, Jess and Kevin were taking his absence. He supposed it didn’t matter either way whether he was distracted or not. There was nothing Lucifer could do to make Sam sympathize with him, there was no right that could solve the Captain’s tower of wrongs.

***

Lucifer piloted a segment down to Cantaya Lambda himself, with Sam as his only passenger, but this seemed to be some kind of normal occurrence. The Captain had left Ruby with the ship and ordered Crowley and his ‘contingents’ to help him ‘take care of the things he’d taught them’ on the planet. Segments that hadn’t been in the raid had broken out of The Cage’s cloaking device behind them and split up across the orbit of the planet in a well-practised move like they did this all the time, but the segments didn’t look like segments of the Cage; if Sam hadn’t known better, he would have thought a fleet of Syndicate shuttles had made orbit. Sam had never seen cloaking or refractory camouflage like it. Either the pirates had plundered an alien race far more advanced than the Syndicate or they had some incredible scientists aboard. Even though it made him uneasy, from the look of that firewall he’d come across, the latter might be closer to the truth. Sam also noted that their segment had crates of the Syndicate food, as well as some other unmarked crates he only recognized from their presence in the cargohold; the pirates must be posing as Syndicate Traders to sell this food at a high price to those who were starved. But all the ambassador could do was vent his rage at the back of that blonde head as he sat, fixed, in one of the passenger seats.

The planet beneath them at least seemed better than the last one, although that really wasn’t a high bar to beat. Baby blue grass rolled out in swaths that framed a burnt-orange forest of some kind. The colours popped together against the light yellow of the sky, and Sam wished that his visit to Cantaya Lambda wasn’t in the company of pirates and murderers. They drew near to a kind of city Sam had only seen in holographs or HoloRealities; spires of deep blue rock hedged in the main cluster of dwellings, and the outer village sprawled away from its hub down wide paths of flattened grass. The buildings seemed rustic, of an odd silver and black material. Around them seemed to be overgrown paddocks or enclosures of some kind, but what they were for Sam could only guess. They seemed far too wild for farms and had no beasts in them for stock. Perhaps they were scientific quadrangles of study.  
Lucifer sped them above the city, then lowered the disguised segment down on to a patch of smooth rock the Cantayals had in preparation for occasions like this.

The Captain rose as they touched down, and Sam found himself undoing his seatbelt to stand too.  
“Now Sam, you will watch and you will listen. At the end of the day, I will answer any questions you have with absolute honesty and you can make your mind up from there.” Lucifer gave him the usual once-over, but there was no lust in his eyes. Despite how much Sam wanted to rip the Captain’s knife out of his belt and gut his throat with it, he’d never seen Lucifer like this – there was nothing playful about his stance or an undertone that his words suggested more than he said. It was almost as if the Pirate King was out to prove a very serious point, and although Sam was, despite himself, curious, whatever his point was wouldn’t change what Lucifer had done. So he just glared in silence and endeavoured to outwait this, whatever Lucifer had planned.

The single access door slid open and before Sam even made it out, a barrage of sound and cold air  
came at them both – in his usual booty shorts he’d be shivering, so he was glad of the cover, even though the uniform did feel a strange kind of heavy and clung against his skin. The universal translator in his ear clicked as it tried to process the sound, but couldn’t quite latch onto anything common.

Despite his rage at the Captain, Sam was, as usual, without any kind of defence – even hand to hand combat was out of the question – so he was half glad the program had him keep behind Lucifer as he saw their welcome party. The aliens were humanoid, but on the limit – tall, lithe, blue creatures with dragon-like snouts. Thin, furred tentacles grew out from beside their nostrils, behind their ears and from the base of their chins, and as soon as the device in Sam’s ear scanned the feeler movements, the odd, cooing language filtered into English.  
“Sir, sir, you came!” A larger one with a more prolific green-tinged mane stepped forward and encased Lucifer in a giant, fluffy hug. Being at least two feet taller than the Captain, with long, elegant limbs that encircled him completely, Sam had to say that if he’d been in control of his body, a snigger would have been hard to stop. Lucifer, on the other hand, didn’t seem as surprised as Sam thought he might, just gave the thing the generic ‘pat pat’ on the back while trying not to be buried in the thing’s wolfish barrel chest. They broke apart and the Cantayal’s tendrils waved with urgency.  
“Our food supplies have run so low we had to ration it out! We will bargain anything for more!” 

Lucifer’s eyes swept the crowd, and Sam wondered what was ticking over in that cruel mind. To leave these people to starve? To have them give everything? What would a civilization this low on the technology chain have anyway? That made the ambassador stop for a second. The Syndicate weren’t allowed to interfere with civilizations until they reached Development Class 5 or above. This planet couldn’t even be a 3. Sam could only move his eyes, so that’s what he used. The rustic houses appeared clean and bright, but that seemed to do with the material they were made of, not advanced replicas of what had been. He couldn’t see any weapons or solar forms of transport, never mind a basic engine. No, Cantaya must be above DC 5, because the Syndicate was here. Sam crawled with discomfort inwardly at the fact he’d just used a circular argument on himself, but was brought back to the situation at hand when Lucifer spoke. 

That odd, cooing language fell from his lips like a song, and the Captain’s hands danced as he used them instead of the Cantayals feelers. Sam was lost for a moment in a) the fact that Lucifer knew this language when Cantaya was on the outskirts of even Syndicate territory and b) he’d never heard a human voice-box make that kind of sound – the only way to describe it was beautiful. Then again, Lucifer was no human, and Sam stiffened at how the little things this bastard did tried to pull his mind away from the slaughter he’d just committed.  
“The Syndicate has decided a change in the program is necessary for your culture.” Lucifer’s words sounded odd in the synthesized voice and Sam would have scowled if he could. What was this asshole going to swindle from these people, these people whose little tendrils waved in a worried murmur, these people who looked so hopeful, who looked at Lucifer like he was their saviour. It was so wrong that what they got instead was a wolf in sheep’s clothing.  
“A change!” The big creature slow-blinked a smile. “I’m sure it will be a wonderful change. Come, we can talk about it in our Grass Hall! May I know the names of you and your companion?”

Sam didn’t miss how many of the Cantayals’ wistful gaze lingered on the segment. Lucifer was going to manipulate them with their need, and at that moment Sam knew he hated the Pirate King to his core.  
“My name is Romdaoh, and this is Ensign Singer, my companion. I’m afraid he has no voice at the moment, so don’t worry if he is silent.” Lucifer’s old smirk crept back on to his face as he looked back at Sam, but the ambassador didn’t get much of a chance to glare at him; he was engulfed in a pile of soft blue chest fur as the leader decided to welcome him too. His programming hadn’t seemed to have accounted for this, so Sam took it straight to the face, although at least this way he wouldn’t have to see Captain Douchebag’s amused expression. There was a thrum against him, like a cat’s purr, as the alien spoke.  
“I hope your voice gets better so you can sing again, Singer.” Even on the synthetic device, it sounded worried and sad. There was a tickle in his hair, and the Cantayal released him. “You have nice fur.”

The creature gazed down at him and it’s feelers tilted to one side, then crept forward as though asking for permission. Sam couldn’t say anything, but the leader didn’t touch his hair so much as boop the base of his skull at the back of his neck.  
“You feel…gold.” It remarked as if proud, then turned back to Lucifer, who shot him a quizzical look, and Sam realized with a shock that it had felt the exact place where Borghild’s gift had entered him. How…how had it…? “I am called Fereesha. Follow me! We can run if you like. Running is fun, but without food it become less fun.”  
“I would love to, Fereesha, but I don’t think Mr Singer could keep up.” The blonde’s lip curled into that troublesome smile. Oh, when Lucifer let him talk, Sam was going to slay him.  
“This way then! Farashee! Let the grass know the Syndicate have arrived.” Fereesha loped down the blue-grassed road, and another Cantayal gave an excited trill, lashed its twin tails then bounded over to the longer tufts on the curb. As Sam followed Lucifer, he kept his eyes on what it did. The alien flattened itself down into the grass and let out a deep, happy rumble-purr that burbled warmth into Sam and seemed to flicker through the grass, even the flatter stuff beneath his feet, until the vibrations vanished into the distance. Ok, if Lucifer did _anything_ to harm these creatures, Sam would be his personal demon for the rest of his forsaken life.

They made their way through the city – it appeared that Cantaya had no vehicles because they loved to drop on to all fours and run wherever they needed to go. The grass seemed an almost religious thing too, or a mutual existence at least; blue tufts covered every part of the ground and the dwellings had been created on legs so that the grass could run beneath them. The more Sam saw of the place, the larger that ball of discomfort in his belly grew – it wasn’t Cantaya itself, no, the planet was too idyllic (if a bit cold) for that. It was that The Syndicate simply shouldn’t be here, Aid or not.

The Grass Hall was less hall and more grass. There must have once been bare walls, but the baby blue stalks had just clumped over it like moss on a stone. Above them wasn’t a roof, per se, but what Sam could only liken to some kind of clear spun…web? He wasn’t sure, but it blotted out the chill.  
“So tell us about this exciting change!” Fereesha snuggled down on their front into the long grass, and Sam’s programming had him do the same while Lucifer followed suit. At least it was a little warmer like this.  
The Captain steepled his fingers together to rest his chin on as he took in the alien. “First of all, let’s go over what deals you have already made with The Syndicate.”  
“What?!” Sam tried to say, but it came out as a glottal choke. A sympathetic tendril reached over and petted his hair. Not only was this planet below DC 5 but if Sam was the Second Class Ambassador analysing Cantaya for trade purposes, he would have ruled it off limits until the indigenous population had been in contact with the Syndicate for ten years and had a very clear idea of what deals entailed. It seemed the Cantayals had their own way of life, but Sam had only had to take a look at their town to see they didn’t even seem to have a physical bartering system at least.

“You wanted some special rocks from our mountains at first for more tasty food.” Fereesha cooed. “Then some liquids from beneath the earth. Last time you asked for some of our silverwoods, and although they are very precious to us, we would have starved without the food. So thank you for not letting us starve.”  
“So mining, drilling and resource harvest, is that correct?” Lucifer summed up and Sam shot him what he hoped was a combo of a warning glare not to do a damn thing to these people and a look of confusion. This wasn’t right. This was extortion. For not the first time today, he wanted to have his tongue free, to interrogate the Cantayal more, but it was probably for the best that he couldn’t. If Sam got into this (and when he got back to the Syndicate, by fuck was he going to make it his first job to tear apart anything that related to the Cantaya trades) Lucifer would know straight away he wasn’t just a soldier.  
“I don’t know about those words. They had images.” The big creature twirled its feelers in a nonchalant kind of way. “We do not want you to harm our grass though. That is the only thing we will not give for food.”  
Sam didn’t take his glare off Lucifer, and when the Captain finally turned to him, Sam looked between the Cantayal and Lucifer with what he hoped was a ‘if you do shit to them, I will end you’ kind of stare. Lucifer turned back with an infinite kind of calm.  
“Of course. Now, the changes to discuss.” Lucifer leaned up a bit and tugged his MD out from under him. “The Syndicate formally retracts its…collection of special rocks, liquids from the earth and silverwoods. If we return for these purposes, you have full authority to evict any ship under the Planetary Involvement Class Act, Civil Code 48911204.”

Sam stared at Lucifer for a moment in stunned shock, then backtracked as he recognized the code. It was a newer code, but in his own trade talks and practise debates, he often found loopholes to circumnavigate. Although Lucifer’s information was up to date, the older directives were much more concrete, and Sam knew the exact one these people should have. To hell with it. If Lucifer found out who he was and killed him, at least he wouldn’t have to put up with the asshole any more.  
“Now – “  
“Mmm!” Sam tried and kept his eyes wide with intent on Lucifer. The Captain cocked his head, then pressed something on his MD, and Sam felt his hands free up. Without a second’s hesitation he raised one finger, then three, then eight and so on until he finished the serial. Both aliens watched him as he ran through the number a second time. He just had to hope that Lucifer picked up on it.  
“It…seems that Ensign Singer believes code 13897003 would be more effective and…I agree.”  
Lucifer’s eyes narrowed in curiosity, but he didn’t inquire further. He tapped something out on his MD, it whirred, then produced a holochip, very similar to the one Sam had always worn around his neck. “This has all the information on it that you need as well as Syndicate signatures and recommendations. It also contains a safeguard EMP in case any Syndicate ships aren’t so eager to leave. Activation of this will alert me to your distress, and my ship and crew will help your cause. It is _crucial_ that you store this in a safe place.”

EMPs that small didn’t exist, did they? But if Lucifer had cloaking technology and firewalls so advanced, then perhaps chip-sized EMPs weren’t so mad. Though that’s probably what Lucifer had been doing on his MD for the past week or so, Sam mused – hacking the Syndicate for signature and officer recommendation information. Not match-three game apps then. Or not _mainly_ game apps. The Pirate King tapped the switch on the side to turn the image on, then placed it into Fereesha’s tentacles for them to try. The Cantayal took it with a kind of awed reverence, and gave a coo of wonder as they turned it off and on. Their tentacle thing also hovered over the big red button that had EMP stamped on it, and through his translator, the flick of its ears said ‘understood’. Then Fereesha reached up and tucked it under a flap of skin in their cheek.  
“You will stop the death of the silverwoods?” Fereesha looked up at Lucifer with great big swimming eyes.  
“We will stop all interference here.” Lucifer cooed in reply, and Sam would have jumped out of his skin if he’d been allowed; the big alien practically pounced on Lucifer and rolled around with him in the grass in the most joyful hug Sam had even seen. The ridiculous sight of tangled limbs and the scary old leather-daddy Captain being tackled hugged made Sam’s stomach shiver with supressed laughter. Then he caught himself and stopped, eyes on the soft blue grass. If Lucifer hadn’t come here, who knows what The Syndicate would have requested next. And from what Fereesha had described, those were no Food Aid Carriers, they’d just looked like them. Which entailed they were _disguised_ as them, which meant the Syndicate knew this was wrong. But why? Easy resources? That wasn’t worth the risk of screwing an entire civilization.

“All right, all right.” Lucifer managed to make a coo with a wavy hands grumble, and sat up out of Fereesha’s grasp. “Now, where food is concerned.”  
“Food! Of course, we need it very much!” The Cantayal sat up, yellow eyes alight with joy. Sam also noted that gradients of white, pink and lighter blue bled into its fur at the change of mood.  
“We will provide you only with the food you immediately need. The rest you shall make or find for yourselves.” Lucifer looked like a stern parent with a child, as Fereesha faltered a little.  
“We…I…I don’t remember how. The Syndicate came with their tasty, free, fast food and we didn’t need it any other way.” The alien cooed, and a tinge of sadness seemed to emanate from them. Fereesha’s fur tinged yellow here and there as its mood dropped. “When they asked for things for the food, we couldn’t remember how to get other food, so we had to give them things. I would like to know how again.”

Sam was ready to spit tacks. The Syndicate hadn’t just interfered with a DC 2-3 civilization, they had made them _dependent_ on exterior supplies! If this had continued, the Cantayals might have bargained their whole planet away without even realizing what this meant. Ooh, let him fucking at the motherfucker who’d ordered this. Sam would tear them ten new ones and then some. In fact, with the authority of a First Class Ambassador, he could sue the politician or Resource Control officer responsible for this and maybe even restrict Syndicate trading access to the inner-mid reaches of the charted star systems. It was a matter of trust, and this had the evolution of entire planets and entire species’ at risk. The laws were the laws and here the Syndicate had broken them without a doubt and had been fully aware of it too.  
“It’s a good thing I remember then.” Lucifer rose up off the ground, and Sam’s chip made him follow. “Come on; gather your people and I’ll show you the way out of dependency.” 

Those words struck a chord. Sam wondered for a moment whether Lucifer acted like the name he’d chosen or chosen the name for the way he acted, because wasn’t that what the mythological being had done? Led humanity away from dependency on a higher power, away from the Garden of Eden and made them think and work for themselves? He wondered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are not quite what they seem, huh? ;) The thick plottens. Hope you enjoyed the chapter though, and I would love to hear what you thought of it - any theories, any musings, even just a keyboard smash, it's great to hear from y'all! :D Thank you so much for all kudos and your comments so far - they always get me pumped to get the next bit up, and they always make my day. I get way too happy when I see a new message in my inbox, it's silly :P Oh, I sort of compiled a Samifer playlist on [this post here](http://swaglexander-the-great.tumblr.com/post/157270106980/samifer-songs), so if y'all wanna check it out go ahead. Other than that, hope you're all doing well, and stay awesome!  
> (っ≧ω≦)っ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　
> 
> If you'd like to support me, you can [check out my novel](https://www.kobo.com/nz/en/ebook/tea-in-the-outback) or [shout me a drink!](https://www.paypal.com/cgi-bin/webscr?cmd=_s-xclick&hosted_button_id=TT3Q6W95QFSM2) ^.^


	14. An Abundance of Freedom

For the rest of the day Sam followed Lucifer around as he explained to the Cantayals which trees to plant where, which grass-seeds to collect in what quantity, what mineral deposits, roots and mosses were edible and where the best fruits already grew. The mystery crates in the segment had turned out to be preserved seeds and roots from Cantaya from who knew how long ago. But Lucifer must have spent time here before to learn the language, Sam supposed. The more he watched Lucifer, the more he…admired him wouldn’t be the right word, but it also fitted most of what Sam felt.  
This wasn’t just a matter of seeds and what was edible or not. The Captain would have to know the seasons, the soil acidity, the water flow, the insect types, the Cantayal digestion system, the types of light and how it affected the plants, the composition and stratification of the plants themselves…he could go on, there were so many variables. But Lucifer had either made Cantaya his pet hobby or was some kind of top tier biologist because he had every answer, every solution and every method around any problems or questions that came up.

At times the ambassador couldn’t believe this was the same man that had killed two hundred and forty people without mercy, teaching with an eternal kind of patience in the same day. It was a bind, and Sam didn’t know what do to in it. Was he justified in killing all those people to save the development of Cantaya? And all the rest of his raids and plunder surely couldn’t have the same amount of justification. Sam wrestled in silence, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t observe as well. 

He’d thought the planet was beautiful before, but the longer he spent, the more he simply loved every aspect; the hush of the grass, the cool air like an Earth IV autumn morning, the pale blue light from the Blue Giant in the yellow sky, the thrum of vibrations and conversation through the grass...it just was so open and free. The people themselves were simple in some aspects but wise in ways of respect toward their surroundings that Sam thought humans should really study. They weren’t unintelligent either, just different. The big blue creatures listened with sharp intent to every word Lucifer said, they were always enthusiastic when Lucifer let them try a new foraging or planting technique, and the progression of the day was kind of adorable. It had started with perhaps twenty Cantayals, then they’d done their excited purr-rumble thing, and ten of their friends had turned up then twenty, then fifty and by the end of the day Lucifer had what had to be the entire city sharing his words between them through the grass. 

It didn’t stop the Pirate King singling Sam out in the crowd though with his gaze, wherever he stood. Sometimes he asked the ambassador to help him demonstrate something or carry things, and other times he just looked as he usually did. Sam didn’t have to look back, but in a way, he was proud of Lucifer for this and…despite what he’d thought back at the Syndicate and staying out of the public eye, it was kind of nice to be looked at like that. He…he didn’t know what to do or what was right, to be honest. The feeling in his stomach said that he glowed when Lucifer looked at him as though Sam was all he wanted to see in the whole galaxy, even with more than booty shorts on. His head, being the argumentative, logical thing it was, tried not to accept it. Lucifer was a _killer._ But a justified one? It wasn’t like Sam had never killed anyone, though never to that scale. His whole life he had been told that Lucifer was evil, and earlier today, he’d believed that with all his heart. Sam just didn’t know where he stood. He needed answers, so that evening, he’d do what Lucifer had suggested. He’d treat this like an ambassadorial case and try to see both sides, himself being from the Syndicate, Lucifer a pirate. Remove the emotions, remove the bias teachings he’d had all his life and remove the grudging attraction Sam felt toward the pirate Captain. He’d present Lucifer with his case and Lucifer could do the same. 

Of course, Lucifer’s interest seemed very obvious to the Cantayals, who looked between them with big, excited eyes and wiggled in the grass when the Captain admired Sam. One of them even came up to them when they moved between places and said to Lucifer that ‘you and your silent Singer are very cute’. They’d been lucky Sam’s bitchface powers had been temporarily revoked.

“You will stay, yes?” Fereesha, and all the other Cantayals’ fur seemed to dance with colour now, compared to when they’d arrived. They also had started to do things like lean up against them both and pet Sam’s hair with their tendrils. One time, when Sam had sat cross-legged on the grass, a smaller Cantayal had just laid its head in his lap. The whole race just made him want to smile and protect them in any way he could.  
“Yes, for a few days to make sure all the colonies on the planet are now independent of the Syndicate.” Lucifer nodded and Fereesha just about jumped with happiness.  
“Excellent! The first time we made a place for the Syndicate-humans to stay, but they never went there.” The blue creature trailed off, a little sad. “But you are different! Perhaps you would like it.”  
“We would be very honoured by your hospitality, Fereesha.” Lucifer nodded and the Cantayal was so excited that it forgot that Sam and Lucifer only had shorter human legs and bounded off along the grass-road.  
“Come on then.” Lucifer sighed, and set off at a run after the thing. Even if Sam’s programming didn’t tether him to Lucifer, he would have followed anyway.

 

The dwelling was out of the city and on the edge of the silverwoods because apparently it was the nicest place to be. The house was raised above the grass, like all the buildings, but had been made a little lower so that Sam and Lucifer could vault up rather than jump and climb like the other ones. The shape was very much adapted for cold weather – sloped roof, small windows covered in the strange silken web material and something that could be a chimney from the outside.  
“We built one, but when it went unused we didn’t build any others. We don’t know that much about humans so I hope everything is ok. You left a small shelter behind one time, which we used some parts from.” Fereesha tapped its feelers together in worry. Hell, it was awful that the Cantayals had been so excited and happy to welcome strangers to their world and these strangers had just taken advantage of them and treated them with utter disrespect.   
“I’m sure it will be absolutely fine. If there’s anything urgent, I will let you know.” Lucifer nodded and Fereesha glanced between them, then flicked its pointed ears.  
“We all sleep together in warm piles. I hope you do not mind sharing?”  
The Captain shot Sam an amused smirk, and the ambassador rolled his eyes. At least he could still do that. “We usually do – nothing new there.”   
Fereesha seemed overjoyed at that answer, then left them to it. 

When the creature was out of sight, lost in the vast meadow of blue, Lucifer pulled out his MD and tapped away. Sam heard a little be-doop noise inside his head, then control returned to his arms and legs, and most importantly, his mouth. There was so much he wanted to say, that for a moment all he did was take in a breath and look between the Cantayal city and the Captain.  
“I do…have a lot of questions.” Sam ended up with, but kept his expression neutral as he crossed his arms. “And I guess some form of apology too. What you did here was right, if extreme.”  
Lucifer cocked his head, still with that calculative gaze that seemed to make the rest of the world drop away with its focus.  
“Your reaction was a product of your environment, and I accept your apology.” Lucifer nodded as he laced his fingers together into a loose curve against his stomach. “But I am curious where you learned about that code. I do my research well, but that sounded like a recommendation off experience.”  
Oh shit. Time to pull out the old bullshit card again, Sam.  
“One of my friends studied law. I helped her revise for it off-campaign, and she kept going over how important the old and new codes were.” He shrugged in what he hoped was a very convincing way. “I guess it was just luck that I remembered that one.”

For a nerve-wracking moment, Lucifer just considered him, and Sam had no doubt the Pirate King had suspicions that he was a bit more than a normal soldier, or at least had a strange attitude for one. But if he played it cool, he could make it through this alive. And 85% of his job was to play it cool. So the ambassador kept casual eye contact, a relaxed stance and filled his head with the world of his lie, so intense that he could believe it was real.  
“Lucky indeed.” The Captain pressed his finger to his lips, as his eyes still held Sam under scrutiny. Or maybe he just liked to stare at Sam in uniform, it could be either with this asshole. “Then again, you do seem to have a touch of luck about you. Or perhaps something a little more.”  
Sam’s brows dipped into a frown before he could school himself. “What do you mean by that? And I have some things I’d like to ask you too…”  
“Oh, about that.” Lucifer seemed to pull himself out of his Sam-trance, and his eyes flicked to where the blue sun hung in the sky. “I’ll have to ask you to sit on your questions a little longer.”

A little part of Sam clicked – it was the time of day when Lucifer always kicked him out for fifteen minutes or more.   
“Oh. Yeah…sure.” Sam frowned, more confused than frustrated. With some time alone, he could use his interface notebook to properly list some points and figure out which questions would be safe where his true identity was concerned. But it meant that whatever Lucifer did mustn’t be dependent on the ship or the ship’s technology. Sam had his theories – perhaps the Captain was a cyborg and needed to recharge or take care of his enhancements – that would explain his strength and rock-like skin. Or maybe he needed a special kind of environment part of the day to provide to a requirement of his species. Sam also considered the possibility that Lucifer spent the time flopped on his bed playing mindless MD games, because that would so be something Lucifer would do. 

“How…Should I go somewhere?” Sam glanced across the grass, then at the house. It must be around 9.30 Standard Time, but this planet seemed either had a wider orbit than Standard Time planets or this settlement was closer to poles, as the blue sun was still a good stretch away from the mountainous horizon.  
“No, you be a sweetheart and get dinner ready.” Lucifer winked and shrugged off his leather vest as Sam fell back into the usual scowl.  
“ To think I actually didn’t hate you for a moment there.” Sam sighed, but there was no venom in his words – back to their usual repartee, he supposed, and he could live with that. “And please don’t tell me you’re gonna run around naked, catch a cold and then come crying to me about it.”  
“Only shirtless, unless I spot you spying.” The Captain tossed the piece of clothing at Sam with a smirk and proceeded to take off his shoes too. “And that’s a nice thought – Sam the nursemaid.”  
The younger Winchester caught the vest with an eye roll and tried not to look at Lucifer’s bare, muscular chest. “Weren’t you leaving?”  
“What can I say, you’re a distraction.” Despite his teasing, Lucifer turned with a last blown kiss over his shoulder that Sam didn’t even bother to react to and vanished into the silverwoods. And that was it. Sam was alone. 

With a sigh, the ambassador collected Lucifer’s shoes and socks, tossed them up on to the black-silver material of the deck and vaulted up after them. Then he stopped in shock, as Lucifer’s vest kind of dangled from his hand. There were no blue highlighted edges around things. No reminder, no arrow or direction line. Sam called up his interface, but it was there like normal. His program task slots were just empty. Lucifer… hadn’t programmed him. True, it wasn’t like he could escape. Or…no, he could. He could go back and steal the segment and just fly away. Sam spun to look back into the forest with astonishment. Was this some kind of test? Some kind of trap or mistake? Although…he didn’t want to. No, Sam was sure this wasn’t some weird, creepy brain-wash Stockholm Syndrome thing because it wasn’t an inexplicable sympathy or fear that chained him to Lucifer. Curiosity was the kicker here. So far Lucifer’s endeavours had all had some degree of justification. There was more here than just a pirate on raids for credits and a life of luxury.

If he’d been in the military, yes, it would have been Sam’s job to escape and report. But he wasn’t in the military. He was an ambassador who analysed, questioned and solved situations. Besides, after what the Syndicate had done here on Cantaya, the proof that even someone as clever as Lucifer couldn’t have fabricated…he needed to know. This was beyond him, beyond the importance of his escape, and if he reported on Lucifer to the Syndicate…of course they would try and stop attacks on Syndicate vessels. Which meant that if there were more planets like this, they wouldn’t be saved. Hm. No, he would stay and ask his questions. If Lucifer kept his programming off, there would be plenty of opportunities for escape.

Sam gazed out into the forest a little longer, then an idea struck him. The ambassador folded up the vest and placed it beside Lucifer’s footwear. No, he didn’t want to escape, but the mystery of what Lucifer did alone every day was a temptation. Should he? Lucifer obviously wanted privacy, but…now he’d thought of it, Sam kind of needed to know. And it was right there…  
A little voice inside Sam piped up that Lucifer generally tended to respect Sam’s boundaries, so maybe he should do the same. But then again, this was the man who made him wear booty shorts 24/7. Sam shrugged to himself and hopped back off the deck. He wanted to know more about the Captain. Lucifer would understand his curiosity, right?  
So Sam called up his old military tracking skills and padded along the trail Lucifer had left in the blue grass.

Even after five minutes in the silverwoods, Sam could tell why Lucifer would want to go off on his own here. Long grass coated every patch of ground with no undergrowth and very little understory, although sometimes there were rings of flowers either around the trees or around certain patches of ground. Sam wasn’t sure what they did, but Lucifer’s trail actively avoided them, so Sam made sure to as well. In the trees there must have been some form of aerial life, as odd musical sounds not only seemed to echo through the air, but shiver down the tree trunks and into the grass – everything here seemed to touch or involve the grass somehow, one common element that tied everything together. Perhaps that’s why this planet had peace – no matter where they were, it seemed all life was united in some way.

It took another ten minutes before Sam reached open ground – the trees were quite well-spaced so there hadn’t been much warning. All of a sudden there was a stretch of grass plain and a view that snatched his breath. Out before him, to the grey vanishing point of the horizon burned a swath of charred orange. Out to the right, the plateau Sam stood on tapered down into rocks, then to the same kind of blue spires that surrounded Fereesha’s city. Light refracted through them and cast crystalline shards of soft blue onto the fiery forest. At their foot, a huge, black lake opened up – well, greyer and lighter on the surface and darker toward the centre which suggested that the stone or crystal that held it was black rather than the liquid itself. To Sam’s left, another arm of hills and spires reached out, but lower and more of just a ridge than the other side. Over the top of its square-sharded sides, the ambassador could make out a sea of blue grass that seemed to stretch on forever across the land. Here and there, liquid or water winked light from within the swath, and small dots that might have been Cantayals or another plain species moves across it.  
A chill wind howled before Sam felt it as it carved through the trees behind him, then yanked at his clothes and cut through even the advanced-blend Syndicate material, but it didn’t make Sam want to turn around and seek shelter. It added to the openness of everything, like the wind soared through him and took part of his soul out with it, across the forests and yellow sky. As the wind tangled his hair and tried to urge him toward the edge, Sam half wished he could go with it, that he could fly. Not in the conventional sense of hydrocars and military air-dive suits, but to glide without aide or even with wings like Castiel’s. How the commander was so nonchalant about losing them, Sam could never understand.

He didn’t know how long he stood there on the cliff edge before he realized why he’d actually come here. For the first time since he’d stepped out of the trees, Sam snapped away from the view, cheeks and nose pink with cold. Lucifer’s tracks continued a little way in front of him in a straight line, then stopped. The Captain hadn’t turned left or right it seemed, and when Sam crouched to examine the blue grass, none of the stalks had been bent back the way he’d come.  
“Where did you go?” Sam asked to the vast openness in front of him with a frown. Only the wind rumbled in response, but no matter how hard Sam looked, it seemed as though Lucifer had simply vanished. Instead of finding answers, Sam had just come across more questions, almost as though Lucifer knew and was teasing him with it. 

Still with a frown, Sam padded left, then right to make sure he hadn’t missed anything. No, although his fingers had started to go numb and Lucifer would never let him live it down if he was the one to catch a cold or some weird blue space flu out here.

With a sigh, Sam looked back out across the view, then tilted his head up to the pale yellow sky and something caught his eye. There, high up in the air a black shape circled. Not fast enough to be a ship, and after a moment, even from this distance, Sam could make out wings. A bird of some kind then. It must be _huge_. After a hasty calculation or two, Sam figured that if it was as far away as he thought it was, its wingspan must be at least eight times his height. And it was directly above him. The ambassador swallowed for a moment and considered that perhaps he shouldn’t push his luck with whether or not it had decided that it liked the look of human to eat. That and the chill out here…hmm, maybe he should head back to the trees. Yeah, that seemed like a good plan. So Sam cast a final look at the valley in front of him, then turned around and headed back the way he’d come, none the wiser to the mystery of Lucifer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo that was a bit of a filler chapter, but tbh I just wanted to explore Cantaya a bit more. Next chapter=exciting things though! (any predictions??) ^.^ Things are starting to Happen and Feelings are starting to be Felt :P I would love to hear what you thought of this chapter, so leave a comment if you like! They always make my day, and it's so wonderful to experience the journey of the story with y'all ♥ Cheers to you all, and stay ye awesome! ♡´･ᴗ･`♡
> 
> If you'd like to support me, you can [check out my novel](https://www.kobo.com/nz/en/ebook/tea-in-the-outback) or [shout me a drink!](https://www.paypal.com/cgi-bin/webscr?cmd=_s-xclick&hosted_button_id=TT3Q6W95QFSM2) ^.^


	15. Dinner Date

The sun had nearly set before Lucifer made it back to the kaloot, as the Cantayals called it. It roughly translated into ‘shelter’ but the sound represented warmth, rest and peace as well. He hadn’t meant to stay out so long, but after months on a ship, the open space here had been irresistible. Of course, it had been a toss up between leaving Sam and going to take advantage of the peaceful openness, but he trusted Sam wouldn’t leave. He had to test it sometime, and now had seemed a good a time as any. Lucifer hummed as he thought of the man, who still looked a dream in a uniform. It was nice that Sam didn’t seem to want to murder him with every breath anymore, because that _so_ put a dint in any potential wooing. Well, unless you were a Rejsakir, who would only take a mate who’d killed them at least once.

Lucifer vaulted up on to the deck of the kaloot and noted from the glow in the windows that Sam had managed to figure out how the Black Leaf Orb worked. The Cantayals had found out that certain deposits of large spherical crystals reacted with compounds in decomposing leaf matter to create heat. They always planted flowers around where different kinds of crystals emerged to keep them clear of leaves and keep an eye on them. Something smelled absolutely divine though, and that in itself was a minor miracle with the shite re-con Syndicate food.

“Honey, I’m home!” Lucifer smirked as he pushed through the goya-worm netting. Through the grass vibrations, the goya worms knew that if they spun over the holes in the Cantayals’ kalootoo, then they would get a warm, dry place to live, which insulated the dwelling very well.  
“Yes you are you lazy asshole.” Sam huffed from where he stirred some of the stolen Syndicate food to life in some sort of suspension he’d managed to wrangle over the Black Leaf Orb. And…he’d taken his uniform off. Even in this temperature, for some reason, Sam had stripped back down to his shorts.  
“You took off your uniform.” Lucifer cocked his head and waited for a witty retort, but Sam just opened his mouth for a second, then looked down at himself as he crouched, as though he hadn’t even realized he’d done it.  
“Force of habit.” Sam muttered. “I wonder whose fault that is.”  
“It’s a good habit. I agree wholeheartedly. Why are you…heating that up like that?” Lucifer hadn’t seen humans cook food in the kind of cauldron-fire way for longer than he cared to think, let alone this day and age. “I mean it smells amazing but…”  
“Because this processed, sealed food is disgusting. But when I was younger I got taught how to cook – like remove bits or add parts together to make something new.” Sam gestured but seemed to soften a little at the compliment, though it was Lucifer’s turn to roll his eyes.  
“I know what cooking is, Sam.” He watched as Sam rose. The purple light flickered across those muscles and that strong jaw and made the man seem inhuman, ethereal in beauty. The way his lines and planes stood out, the way his hair fell in tangled, purple-tinged tresses just under his jaw line and against his lower neck, the way his eyes glinted with something both kind and harsh wasn’t something that should exist in reality. Only in stories or dreams. 

Sam seemed to notice his gaze, but didn’t tense up like he’d used to. He just ran a hand through that long hair and looked back over his shoulder.  
“I should find you something to eat off, I think it’s done.” Sam looked back, then Lucifer just about jumped out of his skin as the man reached over and splayed a hand over his right pec. A _hot_ hand. Fuck, he could feel the thrum of Sam’s energy, Sam’s body through that touch.  
“You’re freezing. Put a damn shirt on.” And then Sam turned away as if he hadn’t done a fucking thing. Lucifer almost lashed a hand up to snatch that wrist, to hold on to the warmth and sensation a little longer, but that was a sure fire road down to undoing every step he’d made so far. Instead, he covered his shock as best he could.  
“Are you sure? I mean I could take off my pants and then we’d have matching outfits.” Lucifer smirked at the look on Sam’s face as he turned back with the square container the food had been originally packaged in.  
“If you take off your pants, I will kick your ass out the weird spider-web door.” Sam knelt and scooped some of the red stew he’d made from out of the crystal collecting-bowl he’d cooked it in. The skin on Lucifer’s chest still swarmed with heat, as though Sam had branded his hand into the flesh there.  
“Mmm, and risk missing out on what smells so delicious? You got me there.” Lucifer smiled to himself and retrieved the leather vest that Sam had folded up on the bed. 

The kaloot was a little less open plan than his chambers on the ship. From the door, to the left was a bed that took up all the space between the three walls it touched and was only accessible from the side. It seemed the Cantayals had found a military cot in the Syndicate dwelling they’d appropriated and tried to make a larger bed, probably on the assumption that humans slept in piles like they did. Then was the wall with the Black Leaf Orb pit in it, at the end of which the space turned a corner in kind of an L shape. To the right of this part were oddly out of place benches and storage which led on to a door to bathroom facilities, and to the right a Syndicate table and chairs had been placed against a wall as though the Cantayals knew humans needed or wanted them, but weren’t quite sure what they were for.

Sam laid the food down with the eating utensil it had come with and waited with crossed arms as he leaned against the table like he usually did while Lucifer ate.  
“Aren’t you going to join me? I don’t bite, you know, unless you want me to.” The Captain slid down into a chair and hooked the crook of his right knee over the corner of the table with a grin, so he was diagonal across the seat. Sam frowned for a moment and looked between Lucifer and the Black Leaf Orb pit as if the thought hadn’t even occurred to him.  
“Only if you sit like a civilized person.” The look cleared and Sam glared at his knee.  
“In some cultures this is very civilized.” Lucifer smirked right back at him.  
“Why didn’t I try harder to kill you.” Sam rolled his eyes, but grabbed a different container for himself.  
“You’d miss my charm that’s why.” Lucifer winked and Sam sent him the most bitchy expression he’d seen from the man in a while. Despite that, he still slid his knee off the table and pulled himself into the table a little more. He hadn’t noticed how he sat in chairs before, but it was probably a side effect of his restless personality; when you spent almost 16hrs in a chair all day, you had to switch it up.

Sam didn’t really react to his compliance, just took the seat opposite Lucifer and stirred the stew with his fork a little.  
“I…followed you.” Sam glanced up at him, then back down to the food, as if a little guilty. “When you went, I guess I got curious and tracked you.”  
Lucifer’s jaw tensed a little, and he fixed a stern gaze on the man. He wished Sam had waited, honestly. He’d been thinking of letting Sam stay instead of kicking him out for a few days now.  
“I know I shouldn’t have, but I could only track you as far as the plateau before the cliff anyway. It was like you’d just vanished.” So Sam hadn’t actually caught up with him then. That was a bit of a relief. It wasn’t as though Lucifer was shy, just…certain things about him needed to be less well-known.  
“You said you’d answer any question honestly…” Sam finished, and Lucifer could just about see the curiosity itch under his skin, but the Captain just threw back his head and laughed.  
“Oh Sam, you always try to find the loopholes, don’t you.” He smiled across at the man, who seemed a little shocked by his less-than-angry response. “I’ll answer that question, but not tonight. Keep that curiosity burning a little longer.”

Sam deserved it for being impatient, and the tall man seemed to grudgingly agree there. Lucifer took a forkful of the thick stew and stopped in surprise. It tasted nothing like over-salted, fake rehydrated shite it was made of.  
“Now how the hell did you do this?” Unless Sam really did have some mystical transfiguration powers, Lucifer was at a loss. It was Sam’s turn to smirk.  
“Mm, perhaps I’ll teach you sometime.” 

The sudden confident swagger sparked Lucifer’s thought process for a second. Did this man just decide he wasn’t quite sexy enough, so he had to add another layer of sexy to the heap? Lucifer realized he’d just stopped and stared without a reply, and Sam quickly dropped his gaze back to focus on his food again.  
“Lucifer…why are you helping these people?”  
The Captain drew in a deep breath and thought for a moment. But he’d promised Sam honesty, so he’d give him the best answer he could.  
“I want to disrupt the Syndicate where I can. For the most part, humans are prideful, arrogant, disrespectful pests. I have made it my mission in life to be their personal tormenter.” Lucifer watched Sam’s face, but it stayed neutral in an almost wrote way. “For a long time, my own kind didn’t let me interfere – they kept me imprisoned. They believed it was only their job to watch, observe and document. What can I say, I’m a bit more proactive. ”

Lucifer gave a wry smile and helped himself to another bite of Sam’s amazing cooking.  
“Why the Syndicate, why humans?” Sam didn’t seem offended, just as though he were trying to piece a jigsaw together, which was perfect. Lucifer didn’t want to tell Sam straight answers, because it was more likely the soldier would believe them if he found out himself.  
“For one, they’re more widespread than ever, and more greedy than ever. It’s a matter of balance, Sam, and the Syndicate disrupts that balance.” Lucifer shrugged and trusted Sam’s judgement not to hate him for his words.  
“And your solution is to kill them? Terrorize them? Doesn’t that usually unite people?” See, Sam still seemed far too clued up to have just been a sub-ordinate in the army. Perhaps his friend that studied law was a close one? For not the first time, Lucifer was glad he’d bought the man, was glad, in fact, the Sam had been snatched and sold as a slave. It’d save him from being beaten down and brainwashed by military bullshit.  
“If they were so united, then why am I not dead yet? I’ve been doing this long enough.” Lucifer shot the man a secretive smile. “I want you to think on that. I always say I have my reasons, Sammy, and I think they are becoming a little more clear to you.”  
Sam was silent for a moment as they ate.  
“Why did you buy me? What was your profound reason for that?” Sarcasm crept back into his tone, and Lucifer snorted with a grin. Of course Sam would ask that. The one thing…  
“I could say I bought you because I knew if any other master found out you were human, you’d be made into mincemeat and sold on the fringes as a delicacy.” Lucifer studied a forkful of recon meat Sam had somehow made taste like actual meat for emphasis. “I could say I wanted to save you from being sold to a pimp, that I knew I’d treat you better than most. But honestly?”  
He sighed, put down his fork and looked across at the broad stretch of those shoulders, the sleek muscles that rippled underneath tanned skin, then made it to Sam’s hazel eyes. “All I could think of was how gorgeous you are. Seriously, I thought you were half-Telphousa at least.”

He might have imagined it, but Lucifer swore he saw a tinge of pink creep into Sam’s cheeks. The human didn’t call him a pervert or an asshole, which was also a new record.  
“You must have been quite the charmer at the Academy.” He winked and Sam gave a derisive huff.  
“Nah, nobody looked twice at me. I mean, I didn’t mind it, I was so engrossed in my…in the training.” Sam shrugged, and Lucifer’s eyebrows pretty much hit his hairline.  
“You can’t be serious.”  
“Well I didn’t walk around in fucking booty shorts then, did I?” Sam rolled his eyes and downed another forkful, but didn’t quite meet Lucifer’s eyes.  
“Their mistake.” The Captain shot his pet a perky little smile, and Sam just played with some leftover sauce more, but didn’t rebuke him for it. If there was something on his mind that distracted Sam from being his usual sassy hoe self, Lucifer wanted to know. But just as he was about to ask, the man beat him to it.

“You know…they tell stories about you. In the Syndicate.” Sam started and glanced up at him again. Even his eyes were too pretty to be normal, and seemed to change every time Lucifer saw them – one moment they would be brown, the next a pale gold, sometimes they even had flecks of blue or green in them. How could the hordes at the Academy not even see that? Then again, the Syndicate had always been tasteless bastards.  
“That was why I was so…bias against you, would be the best way of putting it, I guess.” Sam sighed and shifted his long legs under the table so one rested up against Lucifer’s bare foot. His skin was a little cool compared to earlier when he’d been working over the Black Leaf Orb, but Sam could put his uniform back on at any time if he was cold. The weight was nice though. A little show of trust or…something. “Well apart from the whole slavery thing.”  
“Ooh, do tell.” Lucifer rubbed his hands together. Stories were brilliant – excellent tools, because symbols were far more powerful than he was allowed to be. Of course, he’d had a few spies plant seeds here and there, and he couldn’t wait to hear how they’d grown.  
“Well…they said you skinned people or tore them apart and covered your ship with, like effigies and skins. And that you impale people, then roast them and eat them.” Sam glanced up at his raised eyebrow in a kind of apologetic way. “I mean, unless that’s what you do when you kick me out…”  
Lucifer couldn’t help it – he broke into a wheezing laugh and it took a good few moments for him to catch his breath.

“Damn it Sam – hahh – I don’t eat people.” He wiped his eyes and laughter tried to bubble up his chest again. Since he’d bought Sam, he’d laughed so much more than he’d ever done, evil laughs not included. “Well, don’t tell them that though, or I’ll lose my image.”  
“Like I’d get a chance.” Sam sniped, but it was the playful bitch snipe rather than the bitter one. “I mean, they were right about The Cage being a maze, but the red eyes and forked tongue was a bit over the top, I suppose.”  
“Oh really?” Lucifer grinned. He let a flash of crimson cross his eyes and split his tongue into a fork as he flickered it over his teeth. Ok, he knew he was showing off with party tricks, but Sam’s shocked expression was worth it.  
“I’m _very_ good with my forked tongue, Sammy.” The Captain threw in a wink and Sam seemed to recover a bit, although he didn’t miss the glances back at his eyes and mouth.  
“Well, I suppose I’m not one to talk. I dated a Lycanthrope a while back.” Sam sighed and proceeded to clean his dish with a finger. Lucifer tried not to watch. Fuck he tried, but he was damn jealous of that finger and how Sam sucked and licked it in his absent-minded kind of way. Before he knew it, his cock twitched and swelled half hard. From some fucking sauce. Exhibit A that Sam was way too hot for his own good.  
“Mmm, I’ll remember that.” He smirked and wondered whether Sam knew exactly what he was fucking doing.  
“What?” The gorgeous man frowned.  
“Doggy style.” Lucifer let his tongue rest on the backs of his top teeth on the ‘l’ of ‘style’ and received a projectile fork for his troubles.  
“You’re still the worst.” Sam grumbled, and Lucifer was oh so tempted to comment on how Sam’s cheeks had tinged pink again, but actions spoke louder than words. 

A little idea, that probably would end in a slap came into Lucifer’s head. But Sam had been acting a little odd tonight, still had his leg lent up against Lucifer’s even, so he may as well give it a shot.  
“Of course, I have a reputation to uphold.” The Captain shot him a content little smile, finished his stew and wiped any excess off his lips with his thumb as he sent a thoughtful look at the man across from him. “Sam, can you do something for me.”  
“Other than figure out the weird sphere thing to heat the place and cook you dinner?” Sam raised his eyebrows, but Lucifer just nodded.  
“Stand up. Come stand over here.” Lucifer kept his voice soft and gestured to the space in front of him. 

He half expected Sam to freeze or shrink like the man had at his suggestion of a massage, but the slave just tilted his head with a confused look, then followed the request. Lucifer never took his eyes off him as those muscles moved like liquid in the light. He turned in his chair with the man, then stood too. All the sound seemed sucked out of the kaloot apart from their breaths, and Lucifer caught Sam’s gaze and held it. The human seemed transfixed although not afraid.  
With gentle slowness, the Captain lifted one hand and brought it so that his fingers were mere millimetres away from the muscle of Sam’s shoulder. Those pretty eyes followed its path, and Lucifer heard Sam swallow, although he couldn’t tell whether it was out of fear or not – the problems with these visceral emotions was that they often had the same side effects. So Lucifer didn’t touch him, just waited, hand frozen in place without room for error. That’s why he knew when his fingers brushed flesh that he hadn’t done it; Sam had leant forward, even just a whisper, in a tiny affirmation that he at least wanted to see whether this felt wrong or not. 

So Lucifer pushed down every urge, every want, every flame that begged him to take, and ghosted his fingers down the curve of Sam’s tricep. He brought his other hand up to smooth his fingertips over the other shoulder, and just traced the dips and lines of Sam’s arms that he’d memorized from a distance. Every path his fingers followed drew goosebumps along Sam’s skin; the man didn’t look at him, just watched with elegant eyes how Lucifer touched his left arm, allowed his hand to be turned and traced with an expression Lucifer couldn’t read for all his experience. Along Sam’s wrists, the older being could feel the quick throb of Sam’s pulse, the lines of energy that wove down him and connected down through his chakras, and Lucifer let his touch wander onto that broad chest. The other man’s dusky nipples went even more taught and a shiver fled right down Sam’s defined stomach. Beautiful. By the Universe, that was beautiful. 

Lucifer kept his concentration on which muscle he traced next or where the path of his fingers would make Sam’s skin tremble the most, because otherwise he might pay attention to how his own cock pressed hard against his pants and throbbed for promises Lucifer couldn’t make. So he lost himself in the smooth curve of Sam’s sides, the increased roughness and shiver of Sam’s breath, the sensation of Sam’s now-hot skin against the sensitive pads of his fingers. He’d never touched anyone like this before, like Sam’s body was a map and he a blind man who needed to know the lay of the land. Every caress brought a new tingle to his palms and a new shiver to Sam’s body. Lucifer loved it when his thick pec twitched, when he felt Sam’s spine arch just a little or when a particularly adept stroke made Sam’s knee or both knees shake. Then, on the path along his energy web, Lucifer moved up to run a light finger up that strong neck, over Sam’s rough-textured jaw, then his cheeks and to stroke his closed eyelids with careful thumbs. The man leaned into him now, just a bit, as though he wanted to ask for more, but either wasn’t quite ready or didn’t know how. So Lucifer just traced his ear in the company of their breaths then scored light nails along Sam’s scalp. That really made the man twitch and spasm right down his spine, and the Captain followed the line of his pleasure to the edge of Sam’s leather shorts. It was there Lucifer lingered with small, whispered circles on Sam’s lower back as hot desire crept through his control at the sight before him. Sam was aroused. Sam was _very_ aroused. 

The leather had been pulled taught by the stiff line of Sam’s cock as it had swollen in a diagonal line across his groin. If the shorts had been any looser, that impressive length would have just pushed out of the waistband by now. Hell, Sam must be in _pain_ constricted like that, or too distracted to be in true discomfort. Lucifer wanted it. Fuck he wanted to take that straining cock, that arousal that had blossomed from his touch in his hand or his mouth, he wanted to see Sam go lazy from pleasure, wanted to hear wanton noises pull out of that disciplined mouth, wanted Sam’s seed on him. But most of all, Lucifer wanted to see Sam break to him. Utterly and completely let go, to trust him with his body and his pleasure and his moments of absolute weakness.

Lucifer drew light nails down Sam’s cut hip bones, once, twice, three times as a warning of where he wanted to go next. Shudders convulsed up Sam’s stomach and down his thighs, but the human still stayed quiet. With careful fingers, Lucifer dipped lower and stroked from the base of that hard ridge to the tip. Sam’s hand snapped forward like lightning and clamped around his wrist. For the first time in maybe ten minutes, Lucifer met Sam’s eyes and found them wild, confused, desperate and almost afraid.  
“Sam?” He tried in a soft voice and tilted his head a little to the side. The other man’s hand still gripped his wrist as breath moved Sam’s chest. “What do you want?”  
“I – “ Sam took another breath, as if to ground himself and broke their gaze in favour of the floor. “I think you should go to bed now.”

A brand of frustration reared from the heavy heat in Lucifer’s groin, but he pushed it down with the kind of patience that came with having lived so damn long. He understood. It was quite something to go from hating someone with the intent to kill in the morning to shivering with pleasure under that same person’s gentle touch that night. Sam wasn’t ready; he’d barely had enough time to think over Lucifer’s answers to his questions never mind this. He just needed to make up his mind, either a definitive yes or a definitive no. But Lucifer wouldn’t give him that kind of ultimatum so soon. They had time, and the Pirate King had once been named the inventor of seduction and temptation. He knew this game, and if Sam was willing to give him a fighting chance, by fuck would he take it. 

Lucifer considered the taller man for a moment, then nodded.  
“Of course.” He glanced at his wrist, still clutched in Sam’s hand. “If I can have my arm back.”  
“Oh, yes, of course, sorry.” Sam stumbled over the words and unclenched his fingers as though he really had to focus on the action. It was strange to see the usually calm, defiant man so flushed and flustered, but it just made Lucifer smile inwardly. There were the faultlines for the cracks. Sooner or later they would split and Lucifer would slip in, widen them, tease them until Sam came apart under his fingers. But he couldn’t try and taste hope too soon. Sam still had his decision to make, and whatever he chose, Lucifer would respect that.

 

As soon as Lucifer disappeared around the corner, Sam backed up against the wall with a small thud. His body twitched and shivered, a sensitive mess in the wake of Lucifer’s fingers, and Sam tipped his head back against the surface in frustration as his erection thudded, constricted and in pain. He couldn’t go to the bathroom and relieve it, because even though Lucifer probably expected him to, Sam knew what sort of thoughts his head would come up with to get him off. Lucifer kissing him, Lucifer tugging off his shorts and touching him or sucking him, Lucifer flipping him on to the bed and taking him hard, doggy style. By the Universe he wished Lucifer had never said that. But he couldn’t give himself to Lucifer like that, he’d sworn to himself. And if he really did want to escape, if he wanted to get back to Dean and Jess and Brady, back to his normal life, he couldn’t have sex with Lucifer. He didn’t _belong_ here, he couldn’t belong here, no matter how used to it he'd become. Sam knew he’d never look at the Syndicate the same again, but he wanted to fix this, stop these trade deals, save planets like this. But could he? Could he lie to everyone about who had bought him, where he’d been because he knew Lucifer would help him from the shadows? And to top all of this off, there were some things that still didn’t fit, some things he couldn’t ask the pirate Captain because they were too closely connected to who he was. Why had Lucifer’s pirates killed his mom? There couldn’t be a wider reason for that – mom had always told them she’d chosen the planet because of no ‘outside interference’, which Sam had figured out meant dad and the Syndicate. Why had they raided the Jormyjr? That would have created war if Sam hadn’t dug through the Syndicate backlog and won their peace agreement. They couldn’t have planned for that, because if they’d known of a candidate for a First Class Ambassador, they’d have known who he was and Lucifer would have recognized him.

Sam buried his face in his hands and just breathed for a long moment as his body tingled. The cooler air had already got to work on his throbbing cock, but he’d just go outside for a bit if it didn’t go away quicker. What should he do? What could he do? He didn’t want to leave Lucifer, but then again he did. He wanted to be an ambassador and help planets, but he also wanted to stay by Lucifer’s side and learn from him, to help him with his knowledge of the Syndicate and their ships, systems and laws. The world he came from and the world that he was in now hooked their claws into him and tried to tear him apart. He wanted to see Dean again, above anything, but he also wanted to be kissed and held and loved by Lucifer. Sam swallowed as he felt frustrated tears prick at his eyes. What should he do? Nobody would have answers, and he had nobody to talk to, to help him sort through this. It was a decision he had to make alone. Sam slipped his arms away from his face and hugged himself. 

Then, like a bearded, grizzly angel, Bobby seemed to speak in his head with words of wisdom.  
“Sleep on it, ya idjit. No reason tryin’ to noodle on anything when you’re all worked up like this. You’re tired an’ you got time. Now go to bed before I kick your ass there myself.”  
Despite himself, Sam smiled as a nice fizzle ran from the base of his skull out into his body.  
Alright Bobby, I’ll give it a shot, he thought back. The ambassador couldn’t hear any noise from the next room, so he assumed Lucifer had fallen asleep, but he was careful anyway. With silent feet, he rounded the corner, and sure enough, there was that blonde idiot face-down in the bed. To Sam’s relief he hadn’t taken his clothes off, but that reminded the ambassador of their grass-stained Syndicate uniforms in the bathroom. They didn’t have a Cleaning System here, so he wouldn’t try and clean them tonight – he’d forgotten in light of making food. So Sam gave a sigh and lowered himself to the cold floor in front of the orb-heater thing. At least it would be warmer here than anywhere else.

He curled up into as much of a tight ball as he could and closed his eyes.  
“Oh no you don’t.” Lucifer’s tired grumble just about gave him a heart-attack, and the Captain’s fingers grabbed half-heartedly at the skin of his arm. “You’ll freeze to death, Cinderella.”  
Sam looked up, heart in his throat with every emotion he wrestled with, but Lucifer just shuffled over and tapped the bed with a clumsy hand.  
“Cinderella? How old are you?” Sam sighed but stood up. Lucifer had given him a hundred reasons to trust him, and he really didn’t want to sleep on the icy floor. Other than that, nobody even referenced ancient fairy tales any more – he’d only seen them in Bobby’s priceless collection of actual books, real books.  
“You’d be surprised.” Lucifer mumbled as Sam lifted the cover and edged in beside him. The bed was definitely big enough for them both, although Sam had no idea why – this seemed like a cabin made for one, not two or even three as the bed suggested.  
“As long as you promise not to grind on my ass while I’m asleep.” The warmth of the bed on his cold skin made him so glad he’d decided to take the offer, and Lucifer had moved far enough away to give him the space he needed not to touch him.  
“I may be a pirate, but I still have some class. Now go to sleep.” Lucifer’s voice hit the tone that had hints of a man who murdered people for waking him up, so Sam just snorted and turned on his side away from the Captain. As he closed his eyes, something thrummed through his body, a sensation that Sam could only describe as gold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize in advance for the next chapter, lol. But that was a bit of the talky talk with spicy extras ;) I would love to hear what you thought of the chapter! If you have any new theories, any new ideas or just anything that you'd like to share with me, I would be delighted ^.^ Thank you so much to everyone who has left kudos and comments already, you guys really make me so happy! (つ≧▽≦)つ⊂(・ヮ・⊂) I've updated my other Samifer series too! Go check that out [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10438455/chapters/23047791) if you like n.n
> 
> If you'd like to support me, you can [check out my novel](https://www.kobo.com/nz/en/ebook/tea-in-the-outback) or [shout me a drink!](https://www.paypal.com/cgi-bin/webscr?cmd=_s-xclick&hosted_button_id=TT3Q6W95QFSM2) ^.^


	16. Home Sweet Home

“Hey, is he coming round?”  
“Yeah, I think so, go wake up Dean.”  
Sam would have groaned, but he remembered that he was in bed with Lucifer and would probably get shivved if he woke the Captain up.  
“Do you think he’ll remember?”  
“I don’t know, they said it was likely to be a side effect…”

Who were these voices? Unless his chip had developed a split personality or something…Ah shit, that reminded him. He should probably go wash and dry those goddamn uniforms before Lucifer woke up. Sam grudgingly opened his eyes, a little disorientated, and then he froze. That was his ceiling. Not the silver-blue material of the Canataya cabin, but the usual grey of his apartment. Lucifer wasn’t beside him, and some sort of shirt choked up around his throat. Loose pants brushed against his legs and by the Universe that was uncomfortable. It felt…wrong. So wrong, like his body was being strangled by the fabric.  
“Sam? Sammy!”   
Two strong hands caught his shoulders, and Sam flinched at the sudden touch, then saw Dean.  
His brother…how?  
“Dean?” Sam’s voice came out as a rough croak and he looked around to see Jess and Brady by his bed too. He sat up as Dean helped guide him. Everything felt all spaced out like he wasn’t quite right somehow. The movement tugged on a sore patch of skin under his right ear and on instinct he went to touch it. There was no square raise anymore, just smooth skin. His chip was gone. How…

“What do you remember last?” Dean squeezed his arm a little and it focussed him. A little voice in the back of his head urged him to go and make Lucifer breakfast – and to wash those dirty Syndicate uniforms before they had to wear them again. But Lucifer wasn’t here. Something empty opened up in Sam’s stomach, and he glanced around, as if the Captain might appear.  
“I – “ Now he had to lie. Tell them something they’d believe, because the Syndicate couldn’t know more than they already did about Lucifer. Not even Dean. “I’d gone to sleep after a Trader’s soiree. They had me serve food there.”  
Dean just nodded. His hand slid away, and Sam relaxed a little – he didn’t want to be touched, unless it was by Lucifer, with his permission. He’d spent so long under the lusty gaze of the crewmembers, that any other touch felt wrong. He couldn’t allow it or everyone would want it. The shirt hitched around his neck and arms, and Sam tugged it down a little, uncomfortable.  
“They said short term amnesia might be a side-effect of having the chip those evil bastards put in you removed.” A flash of anger lanced through Dean’s eyes, and a fizzle of fear shot through Sam’s chest. Did they know what he’d said about traders was a lie? Was Lucifer alright? The Syndicate hadn’t found them had they? “You stole a shuttle, a Syndicate shuttle that the traders must have taken, and managed it back to the Thielta quadrant before it ran out of fuel. We had every instrument tuned for your distress signal though, so we picked you up long before any of the other systems gave out.”  
Dean clapped him on the shoulder and Sam tensed under the touch. “You’re a stubborn bastard, that’s for sure.”

A rush of relief washed through Sam. They didn’t know. Lucifer was alright but…shit, Lucifer. Sam had never thought how Lucifer might actually feel if he escaped. Would he have someone to talk to? His crew seemed far too reverent to give him the sass he deserved. Would he even eat enough without Sam bringing him food? Would the Captain miss him? Something sad and heavy ached in his stomach as he thought of that, but Dean was still talking.  
“We picked you up and took you back here to the best goddamn hospital to get that chip removed. It was connected to your brain, so they said you might have a bit of memory loss or go blind for a few days or something.” Dean looked at him with worry. “You okay Sammy? You haven’t said anything.”  
“I’m…just a little dazed I think.” Sam tugged the shirt away from his neck as his chest ached again. No, he shouldn’t feel like this. He should be overjoyed, ecstatic that he’d come home safe. Back to his huge, grey, empty flat. The holoclock read 3am. Jeez, they’d all stayed over for him to wake up? “You guys are here…late.” Was all he managed out. 

This was real. He’d made his decision and come home. But there was no swell of happiness, in fact it pulled at his gut. Maybe that was normal. Maybe that was ok, and he would be fine after a few days. He just had to adjust.  
“We didn’t want you to wake up alone and confused, Sam.” Jess smiled at him and the vague recollection that he’d once been attracted to her came back. It wasn’t a renewed spark, it was simply a piece of knowledge that meant nothing, with not even the sensation of regret tacked on.  
But there was still a grateful tug at his chest. He had his friends again, he had his brother again. This could be good, right?  
“Thank you. I…thank you all so much.” Sam was happy that they were here, truly. He just wasn’t happy that _he_ was here. Not really, and it felt like it never truly would feel right. He broke off into a yawn and Dean checked something that probably had his vitals on it.  
“Looks like you need some more sleep. I can stay here if you want.” Dean was trying so hard to look after him, and it made Sam a little sad. He honestly wanted to be with his brother, but none of this felt right. He hoped he’d left Lucifer a note or something about his plans. Maybe they’d see each other again, maybe Lucifer could meet him somewhere or…no. He’d made the decision and that was final. The only way he’d see Lucifer was reports of missing ships, and a list of the MIA. Even then, he would never know if it had been Lucifer or a different pirate ship. It _hurt_ , hurt like a physical wound. The Universe only knew how much it had hurt Lucifer. How could he have done this? For planets like Cantaya?   
“I think I’m a bit old for a babysitter.” Sam managed to school his face into a smirk that he knew Dean would find comfort in. “But thanks for the offer.”

Dean nodded, made sure Sam knew where water and food were if he needed them, then everybody headed away, with the exception of Jess. Dean seemed to give her a warning look, as if to say ‘don’t keep my baby brother awake too much longer’, but left off into the main room where it seemed everyone was camped out.  
“Sam…I’m so sorry for everything that happened to you.” She tried to reach for his hand, but Sam shifted it to brush his hair back. He didn’t want Dean to touch him and he didn’t want Jess to touch him. Only Lucifer, because he’d allowed it.  
“It’s over now.” Sam found himself swallow after the words as his chest felt heavy as though he could physically feel the weight of what he’d said. He was right. It was over, no matter how he wished it wasn’t. He couldn’t look at Jess, because he was afraid she’d see the regret and ache in his eyes.  
“If…you need anyone to talk to. I mean, I know you have Dean, but…” She looked down, and Sam just nodded, but it was without emotion. He wished she would just go.  
“Sorry, I’m really tired.” It was a lie, but she’d leave him if he said that. After Lucifer, Jess seemed lifeless and dull. The Pirate King had just always had so much presence and charisma that he’d ruined Sam for anyone else.  
“Alright. Well, we’re all here for you if you need anything.” Jess patted the bed, then headed off back to main room.

Sam stared at the ceiling a good long time after she went. It was funny how breath was so different. Either Jess or Brady breathed through their nose in a rhythmic huff, sometimes with little whistles of air. The other one breathed in their mouth and our their nose – the in breath had more reverberation than the outward breath. Dean had a gentle snore that Sam hadn’t heard for a good long while – they hadn’t shared a room for such a long time that it had become alien. He missed the way Lucifer breathed – all muffled by the pillows and blankets, when he actually got under them, but still there. Sam’s throat did a little tight dance as he imagined what Lucifer must have felt to wake up alone. Or was it just his imagination that the Pirate King cared more for him than he really did? Sam would never know now, would he? The shirt yanked at him again as he rolled onto his side away from the room with his friends in it, and it a quick motion, he just sat up and tore it off. On second thoughts he shucked off his hospital-issue pyjama pants too, so he was just left in his briefs. They didn’t quite have the same feeling as his shorts had, but at least they didn’t smother his skin. He didn’t really care if the others thought he was crazy; he’d just say he’d got too hot or something.

 

Sam didn’t really sleep the rest of the night. Sometimes he dozed off into dreams of a Lucifer who spoke with a clipped tone and empty eyes as he captained his ship, who looked somehow sad and alone even though his expression never changed. The ambassador always woke up sick to the stomach, and by 5.30am, he couldn’t bring himself to even try and sleep anymore. It was usually about the time his programming woke him up to make sure his brain was functioning by 5.55 when he had to make Lucifer breakfast. Everyone here would probably be hungry though, right? But would they be awake by 6.00? Dean probably would be, because he was a ship captain like Lucifer and worked on the same schedule. Brady and Jess were doctors by now (if they’d passed their Final) and had come to check on him every hour while he’d pretended to be asleep. One or both would be awake at 6.00am too, so he may as well make everyone food. With practised silence, Sam crept to the Producer and ordered Dean’s favourite first, because he knew what that was, then picked two of Lucifer’s favourites for Brady and Jess, because he wasn’t sure about them.

“Ngh, is that a breakfast burger I smell?” Dean mumbled from the couch, so Sam picked it up and placed with the other bowls on the coffee table. Brady and Jess had brought portable beds, but the main room in the apartment had enough room to spare for all of them. His brother rolled over, then just about leapt up when he saw Sam.  
“Sam, you’re up! And…making us breakfast?” Dean frowned at him, but the last few weeks had made him the king of ignoring weird looks. “Dude, are you alright?”  
“It’s only breakfast.” Sam shrugged and leaned against the counter, like he usually leant against the table while Lucifer ate.  
“And you’ve lost your clothes for some reason.” Dean picked up his burger anyway as Jess and Brady stirred. A myriad of snappy replies flicked through Sam’s head if that line had come from Lucifer’s mouth, but he clamped down on it. He couldn’t play sarcastic flirting games with his goddamn brother or get bitchy for no reason. So he just settled with what he decided on.  
“I got too hot.” Sam crossed his arms and waited for Dean to eat.  
“Alright, no need to glare. If you wanna walk around in your underwear, who am I to tell you no?” Dean took a bite of his breakfast, and Sam had to check himself. He’d been glaring? Well, he usually glared at Lucifer, but Lucifer smiled at him anyway. Or smirked. That bastard always tried to push his buttons and…Sam loved the challenge. He’d never realized it properly, but he really liked having someone there in the morning to get his brain working with comments he always needed comebacks for. But Sam bit his tongue on a smart reply to what Dean said, because his brother would just think he was pissed off, and he’d probably come off as ungrateful.

Jess and Brady didn’t comment on his lack of clothes, except for Jess’ little ‘oh’ of shock at first. They snuck him glances here and there, but in a weird kind of way it felt good. Somewhere deep inside revelled at the fact that he was still kind of that beautiful, untouchable thing that only belonged to Lucifer. Sam knew he should have been worried at that thought, which painted him as both vain and owned, but there was comfort in vanity and safety in ownership. He needed both those securities right now until he got his bearings again.

“They cancelled your Ambassador inauguration ceremony, but I’m sure they’ll come up with a date now that you’re back.” Brady smiled at him and Sam nodded.  
“Yeah, I can’t wait. I’ve got a few cases I want to get right into.” Cantaya was top of the list, then the Pjantra-Yalgisi feuds. If the Cantaya case went to plan, he could restrict all Syndicate movements to the inner-mid reaches of the charted star systems and not have to worry about more interference beyond that. Of course, he’d keep an eye out for piracy reports, just to make sure. Sam itched to be out there where Lucifer was, and to help the Pirate King in any way he could. He couldn’t stop the tiny hope that breached the surface of his thoughts and whispered that he wanted to go back into the outer reaches in the hope he might find Lucifer again.  
“Are you sure you want to after you were kidnapped by slavers after your first case?” Jess asked in a soft tone, and Sam realized he was glaring again, so schooled his features back.  
“Of course. Every moment I’m not out there is a moment I could have been saving people.”   
“Spoken like a true Winchester, huh?” Dean turned to the other two. “We’re stubborn bastards, that’s for sure. It’ll take more than slavers to stop Sam saving the galaxy.”  
Sam just huffed at that and tried not to think about the emptiness that ate away at his insides.

 

After a little while of conversation that Sam almost wanted to call meaningless, he told them he needed a bit of space to wrap his head around things. Dean said he’d booked a hotel room nearby and could come over whenever Sam needed, as Castiel could handle the Impala for a week or so until Dean was sure he was ok. Jess and Brady had rooms at the University, so they were nearby anyway and happy to be on call, but honestly Sam just wanted to be alone. Well, he didn’t really want to be alone, but the only person he did want to be with was a wanted man with a price on his head so large you could probably buy a planet with it, and who hadn’t been seen by any living soul for decades.

The ambassador looked out at his main room from his perch on his bed, with his head in his hands. This is what life was going to be like now, huh? An empty room and worried friends. Of course, when his ceremony was completed, it would be an empty room, worried friends and a few trips to brush fingers with near-certain death. Bring it on, Sam said. The more near-certain death, the better. He knew why. It was because Lucifer had always felt like that – a touch of danger with every breath, and Sam craved that danger, wanted to be engulfed in it. He didn’t crave this empty, grey room. He didn’t crave friends who looked at him like he might break down at any second and seemed washed out beside the charisma he was used to. Dean was the only one who he thought he could return to normal with, but there would even be problems there: a) Sam would have to lie to him for his entire life unless he wanted the Syndicate to know about Lucifer, because Dean would grill him. Dean hadn’t had the proof Lucifer had given Sam, or the slowly built trust, or the honest explanations. He’d want to shoot first and ask questions later. B) Dean was a ship’s captain now. He couldn’t stay on Earth IV or be with Sam whenever he needed him. It just wasn’t an option, and Sam would never ask him to, even if his brother would probably drop everything if he did.

The ambassador took another look at the empty room and stood up. He couldn’t stay here idle. Either he had to go to the gym and lift something heavy like he was used to from the cargo hold or go grill his professor about the type of evidence he’d need for a case like Cantaya and what the Yalgisian case involved. Maybe he’d just do both but in reverse order. Sam opened his closet and pulled out a few clothes with idle hands. As much as he now kind of hated them, he doubted the University would let him wander around in just his underwear. So he got dressed, picked up his new MD (his old one had been taken by the slavers, along with everything else he’d had on at the time) and headed out to distract himself from the longing to just fly back into the depths of space.

 

The campus was another reality shock. It was as though he were invisible. It was as though he didn’t even _exist_. People went about and did their business with their friends or with their MDs, and Sam didn’t know what to think of himself when he wished that they would look in his direction. Had he become vain and narcissistic? Did he want to prove Lucifer’s opinion right so badly that he wanted everyone to be lecherous around him? Sam gritted his teeth and ducked his head as he walked, eyes fixed on the ground. No, that wasn’t the answer. He knew the answer. He wanted to be looked at like Lucifer always looked at him – like he was a perfect, priceless creature in a world of lesser beings, and despite how shallow that sounded to himself…it had been nice. It had made him _glow_. Now he felt all dull and normal again, and by the tale of his own emotions, wanted to get any kind of attention to bring that glow back. Damn, he was screwed up. To make it worse, every time he looked at the sky, the pain in his chest got worse until it made his nose fizz with heat and threaten tears. 

Why did this hurt so much? He’d only been with Lucifer two weeks; not exactly a lifetime. Not enough to hurt this damn much. It made him half angry at Lucifer for making this so hard and half angry at himself for leaving the Pirate King. Couldn’t he save planets just as well by his side, and without the red tape? Couldn’t he sit Lucifer down and tell him everything about himself – the Captain seemed fair and seemed to like him enough not to kill him on the spot for being an Armada Admiral’s son – and then he could use his ambassador skills at Lucifer’s side. They could have worked it out.

The rest of the day went by like a grey rush of repeated scenery outside a hydroplane window. Sam’s Professor confirmed what he’d thought about the evidence for Cantaya and gave him some advice on the Pjantra situation, but they’d have to make special requests and go through hoops and council considerations before either case could be approved to go forward. Sam spent two hours or more at the gym just because he had nothing better to do and didn’t want to go home. Well, he didn’t think of it as home. He hadn’t had a home since their mother died, really.

After the gym, Sam went back and read up more law around both the cases, but the words seemed to skip in front of his eyes, and he found himself reading the same sentences over and over again. Near the end of M Shift, he went to get food, only to realize it was because that was when he always brought Lucifer food, the same with the middle of D-shift. Every time, the thought just sickened him somehow, and he skipped the meals. He only ate dinner because Dean came around, and even then, Sam served it to him and forgot to get himself something until Dean reminded him to. His brother seemed to notice the emptiness in his eyes, but Sam didn’t want to talk about it. How did you explain that it wasn’t torture or humiliation or back-breaking work that had fucked you up, but the desire to be back with your captor? It would just sound like Stockholm Syndrome every time. When Dean left, Sam had looked it up just to make sure.

The main term used on one of the info-sites had been ‘abuser’. Lucifer had never trained him to fear him. The Syndicate and their stories had done that, and Sam had just acted under their influence. In fact, Lucifer had seemed to actively work and try to fix his viewpoint. The Pirate King had threatened him once, when Sam had tried to kill him, and hurt him once, when Sam had almost got The Cage destroyed. Lucifer had even apologized for the first one. In both those cases, Sam’s logical brain said that these had been valid retaliations for anyone, but he wasn’t a specialist in these things. He could just be making up excuses.  
The conditions from his research seemed wrong too: That he hadn’t been able to interact with others was wrong, because he’d been free to talk to the crew and listen to the Cantayals. That escape had been perceived impossible was wrong too, because he’d always been making plans to get back to the Syndicate. Had the pain of the programming been a kind of threat or abuse? Sam just didn’t know and the confusion tore at him. The fact that he had escaped on his own terms was a testament too, but was that cancelled out by the fact he wanted to go back? The ambassador put his head in his hands as the tears that had threatened all day welled up. With no-one around, he didn’t try and stop them, just stared at the open, grey room he hated so much as the hot tracks slid down his cheeks. He knew one thing – he was miserable. Depressed, even. He hated this place, he hated the hole in his stomach, he hated his friends for caring so much and trapping him here, and he hated himself for leaving Lucifer. Another thing the sites had brought up stuck in his head. People with Stockholm often couldn’t explain why they wanted to go back, but had a terrible urge to anyway. Said things like “I know it sounds crazy, but I miss him.” Sam knew why, and it didn’t sound crazy. He loved the way they were assholes to each other. He loved the way Lucifer looked at him, like he hadn’t said that a million times before. He loved Lucifer’s laugh and his mystery. He loved watching Lucifer teach with that calm patience, loved the way he slept on his fucking face, the way he seemed so gentle but so dangerous. Sam even loved to hate the way the idiot never sat in a chair the right way. It was like in some weird, cruel twist of Fate, Sam had found his other half in the Pirate King who’d bought him, and now he’d ripped that part away and felt empty.  
“I want to go back.” Sam sobbed to the empty room. “Please, I want him back.”

There was just that awful silence, the absence of breath and presence. So the ambassador cried and cried without any kind of control until he didn’t have anything left in him, and it drained him dull and empty. With shaky tugs, Sam managed to pull his clothes off until he was comfortable and just curled on his side on top of the bed, not even bothering to get in. Should he leave and try to find Lucifer again, or should he stay and pray that this emptiness didn’t consume him? He’d really fucked up, hadn’t he.

The ambassador stared at the wall and tried to close his eyes, but knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep. He didn’t want those dreams of a silent, cold Lucifer again. There were no steady breaths in the room, and the silence screamed his mistake at him. Sam had once thought he couldn’t ever belong with Lucifer, that his place was here. But now nothing here seemed right, or more forced. Like he was here more out of duty than desire, which was weird, because he wasn’t a slave here. Then why did it feel like he was in more servitude than with the Pirate King? He didn’t know, but he hated it, and he just wanted to go back home to Lucifer. That was the last thought Sam had before the combination of his early morning, puffy eyes and the drain of the day sent him off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, what'd y'all think of that? D: One of three horrific cliffhangers to come, many apologies. :P   
> Also: Everybody…I have no words to describe how I feel about the amount of generosity you showed me last week when I asked for help. I’m so used to being ignored by people in my real life, y’know, that I never expected anything like the donations you gave me. I had to keep going and checking my Paypal to make sure it was real. I was reduced to tears by your kindness, and I won’t forget it. I will continue to write for you, I will continue to do my best to make you smile and enjoy yourselves with my writing as much as I can. Thank you, thank you so much from the bottom of my heart. Blessings go with you my friends, and as always, stay awesome. (´•ω•｀♥)


	17. A Fork In The Road

Sam woke with a start, and a blow of horror struck him in the gut as the darkness painted a picture of his grey apartment wall. He scrambled upright and hit the surface behind him as his memories ripped through his chest. No, fuck, no, he didn’t want to wake up here, alone. Frustration and anger roared up inside him, and he clawed his nails into his arms as he hugged himself. Fuck he was such an idiot!  
His breath came in ragged, loud gasps as he began to panic, but then Sam noticed the material on his thighs wasn’t fabric, but leather. The air still carried the scent of stew and burnt leaves, and the room was too cool to be a temperature-moderated apartment. And there was breathing. The muffled, steady rhythm of Lucifer’s breath from where the Captain had practically become one with the pillow beside him. A small sob of relief pushed out his throat as Sam tipped his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. It had been a dream. A horrible, vivid dream, but… As he opened his eyes again, a swirl of gold trickled into his line of sight from somewhere behind him. No, it came _from_ him. Sam touched the base of his skull and swallowed. Queen Borghild’s gift? Her words seemed to ring in his head, like she was speaking to him right that second. Perhaps she was – the Elders of the Jormyjr had powers beyond what was documented on them.  
_“When you need the truth most, then it shall be given.”_

The truth. Sam let a steadying breath huff out as he watched the tendrils sparkle off into the gloom. That had been the truth then, the truth of what would happen if he chose to escape right here and now. He had no reason to believe Queen Borghild’s gift should be any way bias toward Lucifer – the opposite in fact – and it had given him the rare opportunity to test out a path before he took it. Sam covered his mouth to stop the sudden laugh of relief shatter the sleepy quiet of the cabin. By the Universe, he was so relieved his limbs felt like noodles. He grinned at the ceiling for a moment or two as he just absorbed his surroundings again and listened to Lucifer’s breath. Sam revelled in the full, light feeling of his chest and stomach, the _rightness_ of everything in his head and body; everything clicked into place like the perfect field run of a gun.  
“Thank you.” He whispered to where the gold had vanished, to Queen Borghild and King Hermodr. 

Sam sat there for a while in the dark, just lost in relief. But a little reminder ticked at his head that he needed to wash their uniforms, and he probably wasn’t going to go back to sleep anyway tonight. So the ambassador rose with care, so as not to wake Lucifer, and padded off toward where he’d left them in the bathroom.

***

Lucifer woke up at the usual heinous hour. Sunlight streamed through the windows, and the Captain firmly believed that if he ever got tired of his eternal, Sisyphean task, he could come and live on Cantaya very happily. A twist of unease shot through Lucifer’s stomach as he found the space next to him bare. Had he pushed Sam too far last night and driven him away?  
Then he noticed a clean Syndicate uniform on the bed beside him, the Black Leaf Orb had been rekindled, and there was a rhythmic scratching noise from outside the silk door. Hm? Lucifer shook the fuzz of the morning out his brain, covered a yawn and went to see what the sound was.  
“Sam?”  
The tall man sat on the deck as his legs dangled over the edge, still in his shorts even with the chill of the dawn still in the air. He had their boots lined up next to him, and some dead leaves that he scraped the mud off with in a pile on the other side. Lucifer expected the usual ‘oh look, the King of Sloth is up’, but Sam just turned to him with a smile.  
“Morning.” 

The Pirate King just about choked in shock. Sam had never smiled at him. Not even once, not properly. He swore he stood there with his mouth half open before his head righted itself.  
“You have dimples.” Was what Lucifer kind of blurted out, struck by this man who grew more beautiful at a seemingly exponential rate. Sam gave a little huff of laughter, then turned to the side.  
“I also have this.” He turned back with a basket full of fruit. “The Cantayals brought it as a thank-you gift while you were being a lazy bastard.”  
Now that was the Sam Singer he knew. Except that the smile hadn’t gone away. Maybe these were the fissures in Sam opening up, and this was the light that shone through.  
“Mm, breakfast?” Lucifer hopped down beside his pet on the side without the boots, and the familiar eye-roll returned.  
“No, I was planning to throw them at you. Of course it’s breakfast.” Sam held it out until Lucifer chose an olooia, then went back to their boots.  
“You’re happy this morning.” Lucifer mused as he munched. It was a veiled question, really, to ask if this was a by-product of how Lucifer had touched him last night.  
“I’m allowed. It’s a nice morning.” Sam shrugged. “And you’re not so bad when you aren’t murdering people.”

Lucifer turned with incredulous raised eyebrows. “Was that a compliment? Can I get a recording of that?”  
“No, I take it back, you’re still an asshole.” Sam was smiling again and Lucifer couldn’t stop staring at those pretty dimples and white teeth. The man glanced over at his look and seemed amused. “It’s too early in the morning for you to be looking at me like that.”  
“It’s too early in the morning for you to be smiling like that.” Lucifer shot back and took another bite of his olooia.  
“I can stop if you like.” Sam teased, actually teased him back, and a little bubble of confusion welled up in the Captain. He was good, but he wasn’t _this_ good. It was kind of weird how quickly Sam had flipped, and Lucifer wasn’t sure if he trusted it.  
“Please don’t, it makes you ten times more beautiful.” Lucifer glanced over at the man as he practically glowed under the compliment, but couldn’t curb his curiosity. “Sam, are you alright?”

The smile faltered a little on the slave’s face, and he looked down at the blue grass. There was a small pause as Sam thought.  
“I had some kind of…revelation last night, but it was more of a nightmare really. I mean, more than a nightmare, but not quite a reality. It’s complicated, but at the end of it I kind of found my priorities reshuffled, I guess, or something like that.”  
Lucifer frowned, but waited until Sam looked back up at him. “That does sound complicated. You want to talk about it?”  
The brunet just shook his head. “No, I think I’ve sorted what I needed to sort.”  
“And one of those is smiling at me?” Lucifer grinned as Sam shot him a bitchy look.  
“Well I totally regret it now.” But there was no ice in the words, and a warm sensation shot through Lucifer as he found them fall back into their usual stride. For a second, he just wanted to lean over and kiss Sam on the cheek, on those adorable dimples, but he’d probably get a boot to the face for that.

“Can I make it up to you by giving you the day to yourself?” Lucifer smirked and tossed the inedible tentacle-like innards of the olooia into the long grass.  
“Wow. Christmas has come early.” The sarcasm in that man’s voice could probably power a spaceship. “Why, are you afraid the Cantayals will notice how much you stare at my ass and try to marry us? Because I’m pretty sure they’ve already noticed.”  
“As tempting as that sounds, grumpy, I have to go around the other colonies today and check whether my little stormclouds passed on what I taught them.” Lucifer trusted Crowley and trusted his crew’s loyalty not to make mistakes, but he wanted to be sure himself.  
“ _All_ the colonies? How many are there on this world?” Sam raised his eyebrows and picked some dirt out of the boot sole.  
“Seven hundred, give or take.” Lucifer felt out, just to make sure. He’d visited a few yesterday when he’d left Sam alone but he still had a load to go through. But the Cantayals were a very, very communicative species, so if any settlements were left short, some others would come along and teach them. By the Universe, he wished there were more species as helpful as these. Again, he wished the Syndicate ship hadn’t managed to send out its distress signal. He would have loved more time here.  
“In a day? How?” Sam drew back his head, incredulous.  
“I have my ways.” Lucifer winked and hauled himself to his feet as Sam rolled his eyes. 

The Captain went in and pulled on his clean uniform. Sam must have scrubbed them in the stream or something, because the Cantayals had no need for water pumping systems, and the cabin they’d appropriated had been more of an office than a bedroom, so it lacked some of the systems. He wanted to show Sam how he appreciated these little things, but wasn’t sure what the human would accept. Lucifer thought about it a little, then returned to Sam who offered him his boots. It took a moment to do them up, then he leaned across and gave Sam a kiss on the cheek.  
“You’re perfect.” He smiled, then hopped down off the deck into the blue grass. Nothing of the boot or fruit variety hit him on the back of the head, and after he’d gone a little way, Lucifer reached out to see Sam’s expression. The man was still kind of frozen, watching him leave, then he turned back to clean his own boots with the most adorable little grin on his face.

Sam practically buzzed with happiness that day, and it seemed that the Cantayals could sense it too. Fereesha was ecstatic that Sam had his voice back and hugged him for almost two minutes straight.  
“Romdaoh helped you, did he? He is a very helpful creature.” Fereesha wiggled their feelers with happiness as Sam helped the group collect more of the golden fruit he’d been given this morning. The colours on this planet just felt good for some reason – silver, gold, blue and orange…so bright, compared to the grey of his apartment. The fact that Fereesha called Lucifer a creature and not a human piqued Sam’s interest.  
“Do you know what species he is?” Sam asked in an offhand kind of way. He’d been worried, at first, that his Universal Translator wouldn’t have made it possible to speak to the Cantayals because he couldn’t do the hand movements that correlated with their feelers, but it had just projected them as a hologram instead. Sam reached up to snatch a fruit that was fully gold. The young ones stayed white for a time, but the ambassador loved that half-mature ones the best – it looked like an artist was halfway through painting them.  
“He is old. A very old creature, who has seen a lot.” The Cantayals simple way of speech was nice in a way. They just said what they wanted to say, even if how they understood things was a bit different. “Creatures that old should be sad. But he is not sad, especially when he is with you. That is very easy to see.”  
Heat crept up Sam’s neck at the thought of Lucifer’s kiss this morning. Fereesha seemed to notice the smile that came with it, and petted his hair in a congratulatory kind of way.  
“How old is he?” 

Lucifer had hinted that he was a bit older than Sam had first presumed, but he couldn’t be, like over a hundred. The blue alien did a kind of shrug with its tentacles.  
“There are just a lot of years in his eyes, that’s all.”  
Sam kind of wondered how the Cantayals worked – they had sensed Queen Borghild’s gift and they could see past the barriers in Lucifer’s eyes.  
“Come, Singer, let us climb! I like to climb.” Fereesha grabbed his wrist and tugged him along to the trunk of the specific type silverwood tree that grew edible fruit, and Sam figured there could be worse ways to spend the day than climbing trees with happy aliens.

As it neared dinner time, Sam managed to communicate what a bath was to the Cantayals and that he needed one. They simply vibrated any dirt off their fur, and didn’t really understand what physical washing entailed. True, some people Sam knew had cybernetic mods that discouraged bacteria or kept them clean, but Sam only had one that cleaned his teeth and that other one which he’d rather not admit to that Dean had got him while he’d been passed out drunk that one time when his asshole big brother hadn’t. But the aliens directed him to some hot pools that they knew were safe, so he stopped off there before he went home. To save on washing, he hadn’t worn his Syndicate uniform today, just his shorts, and the Cantayals had been intrigued by his smooth skin. Sam had let them touch his hands, but nowhere else – after last night, everywhere on his body felt so sensitive, even his hands, and the only person he really wanted to touch him all over was Lucifer. 

***

Sam sighed as he pushed the meat, sauce and vegetables he’d prepared earlier around in the dish to make some semblance of a stir-fry. It was later than yesterday, and Lucifer still hadn’t got back, but Sam’s stomach had begun to growl in a very scary way. So Lucifer could reheat, although Sam just hoped he didn’t wake up to the damn cabin being burned down around him. What an anti-climactic way for the Pirate King to go – caught fire while trying to reheat stir-fry. Sam was a little nervous about what would happen tonight if the tardy hoe did get back soon. If Lucifer asked him to stand again and be touched, Sam wasn’t sure how far he’d let the Captain go. Whether he’d cross the line he’d drawn or not. He still had unanswered questions, but if maybe he’d get them answered over dinner again. 

“Hey handsome.” Lucifer breezed through the door, and those thoughts were pushed away by a warm ball that rose up inside him. Didn’t mean he had to show it though.  
Sam shot the Captain a dark side-eye. “Hey snail speed, how does it feel to be the slowest person in the Universe?”  
“Feels like someone waited up to cook me dinner.” Lucifer’s smarmy smirk just earned the good old bitchface.  
“And to think I actually smiled at you this morning.” Sam rolled his eyes and waved a hand toward where he’d left the containers they could eat off. “Grab the things for me to put this in, would you?”  
A second after he said it, Sam realized he’d just given Lucifer an order, but the Captain’s eyes just sparkled.  
“Do I get a smile if I do?”  
“No, you get to eat your food rather than wear it.” Sam pushed this new boundary a little and was surprised when Lucifer gave and disappeared into the other room. The Pirate King returned with their makeshift bowls, and Sam bent over to scoop some stir-fry out with them. As he did, he kinda realized that his ass was probably presented to Lucifer in a kind of obscene way, and wasn’t sure how to feel about that. Somewhere along the line, he really needed to decide whether he was openly flirting with the Captain or not. So Sam just stood up as quickly as he could, but Lucifer’s expression didn’t show if he’d been ogling Sam’s ass or not. Damn his pokerface.

It still felt odd to make his way to the table to sit with Lucifer and eat with him, but it was nice in a way. The memory of his apartment came back, with him, at his table, alone with books or reports or essays for too many years. Then again, it must have been the same for Lucifer.  
“Lucifer, did you buy me for company?” The question dropped from Sam’s mouth before he could stop himself. This was how the questions always seemed to go – he’d have a nice list all prepared and instead he’d just ask random weird things that wouldn’t answer anything. He blamed Lucifer and his aura of douchebaggery. The Captain paused and his fork relaxed back into the container before he could lift it and take a bite. Those calculative eyes held him for a moment, unreadable.  
“I suppose I did.” The older blonde cocked his head and Sam eyes dropped to his lips for a second. To be honest, he loved those lips, the way they curved, their thin expressivity, the way Lucifer seemed to taste his words before he said them. “Not for the most part, though. I mean, there was no guarantee you’d be good company. I could have got a whining, grovelling brat or a crass fuckwit. No telling.”  
“So you like being insulted and glared at every day?” Sam offered and tried a forkful of his stir-fry. Mm, not as good as mom’s but good for the tools he had.  
“You’re witty. Sassy. Smart and your glare is hot.” Lucifer shrugged with the look of nonchalance his heavy-lidded eyes usually gave. “Nobody dares talk to me like that and it’s refreshing. _You’re_ refreshing. Now I get bored on the bridge because I have no-one to exchange smart remarks with.”

The statement was so honest that Sam found himself with a grin and a huff of laughter before he could stop himself.  
“You _like_ being told you’re a lazy sloth every morning?” Sam tried not to look at how the Captain’s features had melted. It wasn’t quite the straight-up shock he’d seen on Lucifer’s open-mouthed face this morning, but warmth had crept into those icy eyes, and the man didn’t even seem to notice he had food. Then again, Lucifer did seem to forget he had to eat on a regular basis.  
“I like being told by you.” That sly dog smirked and rested his chin on one hand. Lucifer just looked at him for a moment, and Sam suddenly remembered what Fereesha had said about Lucifer age, which reminded him of a question he wanted to ask.  
“Lucifer…what are you? You’re not human…” He trailed off and swept over what he could see of the man before him with curious eyes. The super-strength, the hard skin, the red eyes and forked tongue, the human appearance, the weird, small things like how Sam had been teleported off the bridge…he’d never heard of a species like it. 

Lucifer looked down, saw the food again and picked up his fork but still didn’t eat.  
“I can’t answer that question Sam.” The Pirate King sighed, as if troubled. “I…we don’t like our existence to be known other than stories or myths. Most of us are sworn to secrecy, and although I’m not I would still prefer to respect that tradition. I think, out of everyone in the Universe, you could work it out without me telling you, though. You’re intelligent, but even you have a box in which you think. If you open your mind a little more, I think, you might figure it out.”  
Sam had never seen Lucifer this uncomfortable, but his comment just added another layer of intrigue, another level to the puzzle that was Lucifer. If he opened his mind?  
“Ok.” He didn’t press and Lucifer seemed to be grateful for that.  
“Mmm, you’ve done it again, Singer.” Lucifer bit his lip after his first forkful and Sam really tried not to indulge himself in those fucking lips more than he should. “For a human, you’re good.”  
That wink was met with a very done face, and Sam took another bite as he tried to recall what else he wanted to ask.  
“Um… this might come out wrong, but do you actually care for the Cantayals or are you just doing this to mess with the Syndicate?” Sam shot him his best puppy-dog eyes. Lucifer just stopped and looked at him for an almost stunned second.  
“By the Universe you’re cute. How do you do that? Just when I think you’ve thrown everything at me with your damn dimples, you go and look at me like that.” Lucifer grumbled in a kind of indignant way, and Sam was lost for words as a shimmer of heat drizzled through his cheeks and he gave a disbelieving snort. Not that he didn’t believe Lucifer, just he didn’t really know how else to respond to that.  
“But to answer your question, yes I do. I hate humans and I hate bigger powers thinking they can use people as they like. I hate it when people are blinded by naivety like sheep to a slaughterhouse.” 

Lucifer’s terminology was so old that Sam frowned for a second. Livestock animals had stopped being slaughtered before the third human space colony had been established, before humans had even left the solar system of Old Earth.  
“I want to protect people like the Cantayals so that they can do as they please and live naturally without being manipulated by human greed.”  
“I agree.” Sam nodded but didn’t dare say more on the topic in case he went all top-level ambassador on the case. “Though, big talk for a guy with a slave.”  
Lucifer shot him an amused look. “I’ve gotta indulge myself in a little hypocrisy now and again, otherwise I’d just be too perfect.”  
Sam just raised his eyebrows and drew his head back with an incredulous look. The arrogance of this asshole.  
“You are…” He broke off into an incredulous laugh and drew a hand across his face. “…the biggest douchebag I have ever met.”  
Lucifer just shot him the most perky asshole smile at him and carried on with his dinner.

“Though, you gotta tell me…” Sam slid down a little in his chair and nestled his leg next to Lucifer’s. The Captain showed no sign that he’d noticed, just like last night, but Sam hoped he figured out it this meant he was comfortable with what they had. And also that the table was too damn small for his long legs. “Where did you learn all this stuff about Cantaya? Like, the biology and the botany and everything. You must have some amazing scientists on board too, because the camouflage technology is the best I’ve ever seen.”  
“Aw thanks, Sammy, from douchebag to amazing in one sentence.” Lucifer winked and finished his stir fry, but Sam just stared in amazement.  
“You…you made that camouflage?” Sam stared, a little stunned, and wondered again just how advanced Lucifer’s species was. The uncomfortable thought that the crew believed Lucifer had created them came back, but that was too far. There was no-one that advanced.  
“Mmm-hmm. Clever little thing, isn’t it? Undetectable if you aren’t scanning for Pzyxik, and nobody has the equipment or reason to scan for that.” Lucifer smirked and Sam honestly could admit to himself that Lucifer was a genius. Pzyxik was a rare, extremely dangerous element that had barely been discovered, and it seemed Lucifer had not only unlocked its secrets, but harnessed it too. Sam just sort of gawked at the man opposite him for a moment. “And as for Cantaya’s botany, well I’m a fast learner and have a big wealth of knowledge up in here.”

Lucifer tapped his temple, and Sam wished the Captain would just tell him how he knew, how he was so… _good_ at everything really. Except being a moral person, that one he still had to work on. Well, he just worked on his own morals. Well…  
Sam still hadn’t found a way to ask about the Jormyjr or Uralias Omicron without being too obvious. The best way would to admit who he was and what his father did, but reluctance held him back. That might be too much even for Lucifer’s attraction. Best case scenario, Lucifer might wipe his mind with the chip and leave him somewhere to be picked up and sent back to his grey apartment with no knowledge of Cantaya or Pjantra. He couldn’t bear the thought of that. Maybe he was weak or selfish, but he couldn’t go back ignorant to that lonely, dull life, even in naivety. Worst case scenario, Lucifer would cut his throat. Because if Sam knew the Captain, he did what he believed had to be done for the greater good. 

No, he’d think of a way to ask. Until then, it had to be innocent until proven guilty, because every time he’d accused Lucifer of something in the past there had always been a bigger picture.  
“No wonder the Syndicate hasn’t caught you yet.” Sam couldn’t keep the touch of awe out of his voice, and finished his food too. Humility didn’t seem to be in Lucifer’s vocabulary, and the Captain looked smug as ever as he crossed his arms to watch Sam finish. The sight of last night hit Sam again when Lucifer’s eyes had flashed red and a snake tongue had ran across that thin, wide-bowed top lip. Again, what was this creature, this man? Did he really look like some sort of bat-winged, goat-headed, snake-tongued thing like depictions of his namesake, because Sam really hoped not.  
“What about you, huh? You seem far too intelligent to be just another Syndicate grunt.” Lucifer lifted his chin a bit, and a shot of nerves swarmed down Sam’s stomach. But lies always worked better told around truths.  
“My big brother and all my friends were in the military. I wanted to join them.” He shrugged and rested both his arms on the table as he finished his food. “I wasn’t the best and I wasn’t the worst. Just average really.”

Average was a good position to tell the Pirate King. Lucifer probably could hack the Syndicate military profiles, and both bad profiles and good ones would be easier to search through. There would be thousands of regular ones though, and hopefully Lucifer wouldn’t be inspired to go and look through them.  
“Sam…hm.” Lucifer uncrossed his arms and leaned forward with a strange smile. Sam’s breath stuttered for a moment as the other man’s finger brushed up his hand, a gentle touch to see if Sam would allow it. The ambassador swallowed and watched the path of Lucifer’s touch, but didn’t say anything. The thud of his heart seemed to pulse from his chest right down to that hand. “For the amount of times you have said you don’t believe me, now it is my turn to say I don’t believe you.”

Shit. Sam met Lucifer’s calculative blue eyes as those fingers slid in to caress the heel of his thumb.  
“You have a fire in you that is rare among any species, and I doubt you would settle for anything but the best.” Lucifer continued, but Sam had almost ten years’ experience of professional bullshitting.  
“I never really liked it, honestly.” And that sentiment was true. “It was where my friends were, it was where my brother was. But it wasn’t where I belonged, I can see that now.”  
Sam looked down, but not at their hands and hoped Lucifer swallowed it, because for the most part it was the truth. The Captain didn’t speak for one nerve-wracking moment, then his hand suddenly squeezed Sam’s a little.  
“Sam, can you stand up for me?” Lucifer’s voice was lower, and the sudden change sent a fizzle of nerves and excitement through the ambassador. Last night, Sam hadn’t known what this meant and now Lucifer openly gave him a choice. He shouldn’t. Shouldn’t encourage the pirate before he’d decided what he wanted. Maybe this would help him decide; if it felt too wrong, that was it, that was all, he’d never let Lucifer touch him again. But if it didn’t…  
So Sam got up with careful, slow movements to show Lucifer this was a consideration rather than an agreement. His heart throbbed up through his throat; not out of fear but anticipation of the unknown, of how he would react. But despite all the conflict in his head, despite the guilt and the desire, Sam went to stand in front of the Pirate King.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I hope that sorted some stuff out ;) And also say hello to cliffhanger #2 :P Silly ol' Sam is even more scared to tell Lucifer now, because of what he just experienced. These Winchester lies, man. But I hope that chapter cheered you up from the last one, and I would love to hear what you thought of it! Your comments make my day, so thank you to everyone who has left comments and kudos n.n Stay awesome buddies! (∿°○°)∿ ︵ ǝʌol
> 
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	18. Breaking Point

This time, Sam held Lucifer’s gaze as those gentle fingers came to rest on his shoulder. Tingles pooled where the pads lay, and phantom pleasure spread across his chest, up his neck and kinda itched in his mouth. The Captain’s eyes were curious, not yet touched by the hot lust he’d seen in them last night, but he was sure they’d get there. Sam didn’t fear it anymore, in fact it intrigued him to see how those cold, masked eyes seemed to well up from the inside with heat.

This time, Lucifer’s touch caressed down onto his chest first, and Sam couldn’t control how his breath came a little faster when the Captain teased ever so gently over his nipple. A bolt of sudden excitement shot down to his groin, but Sam steadied his breath, just watched Lucifer’s face as the other man admired him. It was like Lucifer worshipped him like this, which was not a sensation he was used to, but he couldn’t help but say it made him glow. Shit…A flicker rippled down his obliques as Lucifer stroked over his ribs with just enough pressure not to be ticklish. Then those strong hands smoothed around to his back and Sam felt his cock rise a little against the textured inside of his shorts as his spine arched into those fingers. Lucifer looked up with half-closed eyes, and the Captain’s hands suddenly squeezed his waist in such a possessive way that the ambassador’s breath caught. Fuck, with the strength in those hands, Lucifer could do anything to him, pin him against the wall, throw him onto the bed, take him hard and fast and fuck, Sam’s cock just swelled harder at the mental images. He let his eyes list shut a little as the touch became gentle again, traced up his spine, then got to work on his arms. Here and there, Lucifer would give him another squeeze, or even scratch light nails down his skin to find little places, little spots that Sam didn’t know could make him shiver, sometimes all the way through his knees to his heels. He knew his breath was heavy and that his erection made an obvious line in the tight leather, but that wasn’t surrender. Surrender was uncontrollable sound being pulled from his lips, it was his hands trying to grasp at something to ground himself, or his eyes rolling back. So Sam couldn’t bring himself to make a sound, not even a small one, and it helped that he’d never really been the loudest in bed anyway… 

The gentle scrape of Lucifer’s nails against his stomach made all the muscles there jump. Another desperate throb ran through his cock as the sensitive tip pushed against textured material, and Sam squeezed his closed eyes. The Captain’s body was closer than yesterday, and the ambassador could feel his heat on the cooler surface of his naked skin, so close, just with the wall of his indecision between the both of them. Fingers brushed around and began wide, gentle circles on his back, lower and lower to trace his Venus dimples, and Sam couldn’t help the way his ass pushed out a little as his spine curved. Fuck, how had Lucifer learned to touch like this? His cock twitched hard as precome made the tight leather damp, and oh, that was tight, so fucking tight it hurt. Sam gritted his teeth and tried to ignore how his hips had moved just a little with that instinctive urge to thrust. 

Those hands left off for a second, but suddenly one finger traced along the back crease of his thigh where it met his ass, just below the leather, and the other tangled in his hair. Sam opened his eyes with shock to find Lucifer watching him, _really_ watching him. The man’s face had to be three inches away, and he could taste Lucifer’s breath this close. Oh fuck, all he could do was breathe him in, admire those gorgeous lips with lazy eyes and shudder as Lucifer’s fingers ran under the tight leather as much as it would allow to tease the sensitive skin of his ass. Sam swallowed then closed his throat against the small noise that threatened to give away just how much Lucifer was undoing him. But although their faces were close, the Pirate King didn’t kiss him, on his lips or anywhere else, simply slid away a little and left Sam shaking and wanting. The ambassador’s body swam with tingles and heat, but it was all kinda of backseated by the pressure in his groin. He hadn’t got off all the time he’d been on Lucifer’s ship, which made his body even more eager to override his mind.

The blond licked his lips in a way that _really didn’t help_ as he watched Sam’s flushed face, then pressed a hand against the ambassadors chest. Sam didn’t really resist it, just went with the push until his back hit the wall and his broad chest heaved. Lucifer’s nose traced down his throat and Sam tried to regain himself, braced his arms against the wall as the other man’s hand slid down his chest, but could feel that resolve crumble. He wanted it. He knew he wanted it, but he couldn’t admit it to himself or to Lucifer. For someone who tried for humility, he really did have a lot of pride – in his life, he’d relied on defiance so much, his own strength, his own headstrong will to get him through, and Sam didn’t know how to let go of resisting anymore.   
The tip of the Captain’s thumb pressed under his waistband, and a loud huff of breath passed his lips as even the light touch shifted sweet friction against his strained cock. Like a question, Lucifer slid his hand toward the button, but Sam just tipped his head back against the wall with his eyes closed again and waited, to show the pirate that he wasn’t against this, but he wasn’t submitting. Sam didn’t know how to submit, rather needed his control taken from him. In that way, Lucifer was the perfect man for the job; he’d take whatever Sam would let him until he was told to stop. But of course, Lucifer was always going to be a bastard about this. 

First, the man ran his fingers up that stiff pressure and it would have made Sam groan if he hadn’t actively tried to stop it. Light touches on the tight, sensitive skin just above the band of his shorts shuddered up through Sam, even had him curl in a little bit, but still the ambassador didn’t moan or beg, couldn’t make that kind of decision yet. He couldn’t help how his eyes fluttered shut, perhaps to barricade him off from Lucifer’s onslaught –   
Quick fingers unzipped him, and Sam’s fingers spasmed against the wall as the tight constrict on his cock came loose. One side of his brain just scolded ‘what the fuck are you doing, Sam?’ as the other majority cried at him not to stop this, oh please for the love of the Universe, don’t stop this. But both sides were shoved aside as Lucifer’s hand wrapped around his sensitive cock, and his whole body jerked. 

Sam snapped his eyes open and…fuck his dick was red-purple with arousal as Lucifer caught it in a tight, slow rhythm. The older blonde didn’t look at what he was doing, just kept a sharp, intense gaze on Sam’s face as the ambassador gasped. Fuck that rhythm – oh _shit_ his knees shook as he leaked precome all over Lucifer’s hand, and he concentrated on Lucifer’s eyes, held himself together trying to see the different blues in there or the age that Fereesha had told him – _oh_ – Sam jolted, teeth bared as Lucifer teased the wet slit of his cock with his thumb and massaged the base with the other hand, but he still didn’t break that hard gaze. Oh, oh, oh fuck, he couldn’t hold on, it’d been too long, fuck!  
“Break for me Sam.” Lucifer’s voice was hungry and the pace on his cock slid his foreskin off his glans faster, rubbed him with hot, desperate pleasure and Sam lashed out an arm, grabbed Lucifer’s shoulder for support as – oh fuck – his release welled up inside him, shit, shit –   
“Ahh!” Sam cried before he could stop the sound and bucked his hips into that hot squeeze. It was so loud in the small space, so loud inside his head that it shocked him. His knuckles rapped against the wall as Sam brought a hand up far too late to smother the cry, so he just left it to spasm at the height of his temple. A ferocious streak of heat rocketed up his cock, and Sam could hear himself moan and gasp, but somewhere along the line his spine had arched his neck back, his eyes blurred between the blackness of his eyelids and colour, and a broken, gutted noise punched out of him as he shuddered his seed into Lucifer’s hand. 

How he managed to stay upright, Sam had no idea. Maybe his hand on Lucifer’s shoulder or…something. The ambassador just panted and curled against the wall for a moment as little leftover sounds caught in his throat.   
“Unh, you’re so beautiful.” Lucifer groaned beside his ear, and Sam managed to grapple his arm around the back of the Captain’s neck for better support. He pried his eyes open again, and found the Pirate King’s gaze on him, not with lust but with something short of adoration. Sam half expected to feel horrified or sick, but it all just felt so absolutely good. _Really_ good. He’d been jerked off by the ferocious, marauding Pirate King, feared through the known star systems, and by fuck he’d do it again in a heartbeat. So that was that decided; if he felt good about it, if it made him happy, it was a good decision, even for the most selfish reasons.

The ambassador had no idea how to reply right now, so he just leaned forward and pressed his lips against those perfect, seductive ones. Lucifer arched his neck back a little, like he hadn’t expected it, then Sam felt the scratch of stubble as the pirate kissed him back. It was so gentle, with lazy kisses across his mouth, and it left him even more breathless and dizzy, clinging on to Lucifer like a rock in this sea of bliss. Sam sucked the other man’s bottom lip just to finally taste him, and mm. Like stir fry. Yum. He broke away for breath right as the hard bulge of Lucifer’s unsatisfied arousal brushed his thigh.  
“Mm, sorry, should I – “ Sam ran his hand down to Lucifer’s belt, but the Captain swatted his hand away. An amused smirk curved across those delicious lips, and the pirate just did up Sam’s shorts again.  
“I’ve waited this long. I think I can wait just a little longer.” 

The world tipped and Sam found himself bridal-style in Lucifer’s arms.  
“I’m not _that_ out of it, asshole.” Sam smacked the Pirate King’s chest, but sniggered at how this must look – a 6’4 giant man being lifted around like a feather by Mr middle-aged leather fetish daddy captain. One of Lucifer’s hands should have been sticky, but he’d probably wiped it on his leather pants. Which Sam would probably have to clean. Wonderful.  
“You’re cute when you’re sleepy.” Lucifer hadn’t lost the smirk, but Sam couldn’t complain because the blonde dipped down to kiss him again. By the Universe, it had been so long since he’d felt the heat and sensation of another mouth on his that Sam didn’t even want to break it for sass.  
“I’ll show you how cute your kicked ass is.” He muttered when they broke apart as Lucifer carried him toward the bed.  
“You know, I could drop you.” Lucifer raised his eyebrows, and jostled Sam a little for effect.  
“What, and risk bruising my perfect slave body? I don’t think so.” The ambassador smothered a yawn with his free hand, then gave a yelp of surprise as Lucifer did drop him – but on to the nice soft bed. “You dick!”  
He grabbed a pillow and chucked it at the asshole as the Captain laughed.   
“Fucking pirate.” Sam glowered, then dropped his head back onto the remaining pillow with a contented sigh.   
“Ooh, I like the sound of that when you say it.” Lucifer teased and tossed the pillow back, then sat down on the edge of the bed to take off his boots. On second thoughts, Sam dragged himself under the covers before he got too comfortable and Lucifer decided to manhandle him into bed. Not that he didn’t like it when the Captain manhandled him, but Lucifer just got far too smug about it.

Sam made a disgruntled grunt that could have been vaguely modelled around the word ‘bastard’ and curled up. As Lucifer climbed over him, then settled into the other side of the bed into his usual face-plant position Sam thought back again to Queen Borghild’s gift. So this was the other path he could have chosen, hmm? As far as day comparisons went, this had been the much better of the two, but in the long run? Would he ever see Dean again? Would he be able to bring himself to tell Lucifer the truth? It seemed whichever way he’d chosen, lies couldn’t be avoided. Sam just sighed and listened to his bed mate’s muffled breath, which brought in a new train of thought. He felt a little bad that Lucifer had only given tonight, and he wanted to make it up to him. A small, dark, salacious part of him wanted to go full on-heat seduction, just to make the arrogant Captain speechless, knock that smirk right off his face. Sam had needed this tonight, had needed to be taken over and shown he could trust Lucifer. But now all those thoughts he’d repressed rose to the surface, all his lust and fantasies he’d so viciously buried over the last few weeks, and Sam wanted to show the Pirate King that he could give just as well as he got.

***

“We’re leaving so soon?” A wistful edge crept into Sam’s tone as he looked around the kaloot for the last time. This morning it had been more than nice to wake up next to Lucifer and his steady breath. Despite what had happened the previous night, the Captain hadn’t made any move on him in bed, or perhaps that was more a case of his preferred position on his face didn’t really go so well with snuggling. The ambassador had still got up before him to clean their boots and go into the forest to pick breakfast; the way of life gave Sam a little nostalgic tug as it reminded him of how they’d lived with Mom. But it was as practical for him to stay as it was for Lucifer really.

Lucifer nodded to his query, perched on the bed as he did up his boots. Sam was actually surprised that the lazy asshole hadn’t made him do that at least once during the last few weeks.  
“We can’t stay in one place for long, Sammy.” Lucifer sighed and the ambassador swore he saw a speck of the same reluctance to leave Cantaya in those cool blue eyes. “The Syndicate will receive the Food Shipment’s distress beacon tomorrow and might be here as early as M-shift. We need to be gone before they even get the call.”  
“You managed to educate the entire population of this world in two days?” Sam could help but raise his eyebrows a little. Even with _all_ the crew, that was impossible!  
“Cantayals are very communicative and I’m a good teacher.” The cocky sonofabitch winked, and Sam’s bitchface deserted him as the action made a flush of excitement rush down his body. “Besides, they know enough to deal with bureaucrats now until I can make their case a little more well-known, and I don’t want them to get caught in the crossfire, which might happen if we linger.”  
“Make their case more well-known?” Sam tilted his head in curiosity and grabbed the bag of the trash from their last few days for recycling back in The Cage.  
“I have my ways to make the right people notice the right things.” Lucifer smirked and his hand came to rest on Sam’s shoulder. As always, the ambassador relaxed into that touch just a little, and a little thrill shot into his chest. Lucifer’s eyes were softer with the next sentence. “Some humans do have their merits.”  
Sam’s lip quirked up as he held those shielded blue eyes. “You’re a sly fox, you know that.”  
Before Lucifer could say anything, he leaned down and pressed his lips against the Pirate King’s. It was still a novelty that he could do this, that this erotic mouth was his to claim whenever he wanted it. Lucifer’s fingers curled into his hair, and Sam let his mouth be taken by that hot tongue, sucked it, lapped at it with the enthusiasm of a man who hadn’t been kissed in far too long. But before the Captain could pull Sam closer, he slipped away with a smirk. Oh he could play this game all too well.  
“Come on, you shouldn’t keep your ship waiting.”

Lucifer must have seen the playful glint in the younger Winchester’s eye, because something between amazed and captivated crossed his face. Those little slips were just so delicious when Sam did something the Pirate King didn’t expect. Little chinks in his cool, suave armour, armour that the ambassador just wanted to see inside for just a moment. That rough hand caught his wrist, but it was a gentle hold, not forceful. Just for a moment, Sam got to see that control flicker. That control he wanted to decimate. They held each other’s eyes for a moment, and Sam half expected the older man to drag him back into a kiss. Then Lucifer let his hand go, finger by finger.  
“Yes, I suppose I shouldn’t.” There was something a little dangerous about those eyes, like a current of water that shouldn’t be played with. Then Lucifer’s face broke into that perky douchebag smile. “Don’t forget the trash.”  
And with that, the Pirate King breezed out the weird web door with Sam’s bitchface on his heels.

It took them a little longer than they expected to get back to the shuttle, simply from the amount of hugs the Cantayals wanted to give them. Fareesha even presented them with woven grass anklets, and from Lucifer’s reverent reaction, this was an honour beyond any kind of wealth or fame. Perhaps there was a little bit of decency to be found in the Pirate King after all, Sam smirked to himself at the thought as they took off.  
“Do you think we’ll ever come back here?” Sam tore his eyes away from the sea of baby blue grass beneath them to look at Lucifer. The Captain just nodded, but his eyes were a little distant under their shields.  
“I would lik – “

It happened so fast. One minute Lucifer was talking, the next the proximity alarm blared, and then sound so loud shattered on Sam’s hearing that there was a sharp stab in both eardrums and the world went silent. The last thing he felt was Lucifer crash into his body with a flash of something snowy as a surge of white-hot plasma swallowed them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> RIP the slow burn!!! :D But cliffhanger #3 is here too...what do you think happens next? ;) I'd love to hear any other thoughts you have on the chapter as well! \^.^/ Thank you all for all your wonderful kudos and comments so far, it really does mean a lot, especially in stressful times - like, I reload archive and always get a shot of happiness if I see a comment n.n   
> Also, I'd like to say that with the donations you made, I was able to find and pay the letting fee for a new flat, so thank you all so much! I would have struggled a lot without your generosity ♡  
> Cheers again and stay awesome my buddies! ☆*: .｡.(●♡∀♡) .｡.:*☆
> 
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	19. The Wicked and the Good and Those Caught Between

Ki’ak’g’har’s breath thudded out of her like a heartbeat as she lowered her combat plasma cannon. She’d done it.  
The pirates had left them for dead when their raiding craft had speared the gunship, then dropped it to crash land in the mountains. She’d been saved by sheer dumb luck as the anti-grav crash protocol field had stuttered on seconds before impact. The others were dead though. Lori, Captain Trevieq…the front half of the ship had just been ripped open, and only her position as Rear Gunner had saved her from the vacuum of space.  
Ki’ak’g’har watched the fake Syndicate shuttle fall out of the sky in a fireball, dazed with glee. Her Scan-Sights had shown her a close-up image of the pilot in a syndicate trader’s Captain uniform, and only on that had she been willing to give up her position, her life for the good of the Syndicate. If that was true, she’d killed him. She’d killed _Lucifer_ the Pirate King. 

“Take that you pirate piece of shit!” The soldier snarled, then ducked for cover under debris of her own ship as the destroyed pirate vessel thundered down around in pieces, a deadly rain of metal and fire. A minute or so passed before Ki’ak’g’har deemed it safe to venture out. A glorious sight greeted her; flames roared in the grass and around the metal, but it was her job to investigate, to find any _scrap_ of something useful the broken ship might contain. The soldier reached up to flick on a direct stream to the Syndicate, something they would get even if she were killed, then stopped at the sight of a black silhouette against the high flames. As she watched, huge white wings began to unfurl, coated in a demonic shroud of flame even though the sight should be more compared to angels than any other mythological creature. What the… Ki’ak’g’har shouldered her weapon, unsure whether she’d hit some kind of alien bird that needed putting out of its misery. She took aim, but faltered in awe as the feathers stretched out to full spread and spanned almost the length of her gunship across the wide clearing in front of her. There was something about those wings that made her stomach drop and her mouth go dry; it wasn’t just some unfortunate bird. The sensation was ancient, like the Kha’l Stones of her homeworld. Something that tugged at the very soul, the Yu’unta, and the soldier took a hesitant step back, eyes fixed on the ethereal white before her. Between the wings loomed a black silhouette of a figure who bore someone else in his arms. As the flames parted before them Ki’ak’g’har froze. She couldn’t shoot, because that near-naked man in this creature’s arms was Sam Winchester, with streams of blood in tracks from his ears and nose. Blackened burns scored all down his legs, so deep that white streaks of bone showed through. 

The soldier knew his face from the sheer amount of video stream messages circulated by his brother on the Syndicate channels, and if Ki’ak’g’har killed him, both Fleet Armada and Captain Winchester would…  
The gunner swallowed. It was kill Sam and in doing so kill Lucifer. It was ok. The younger Winchester was an ambassador; he wasn’t Dean, and nobody would know it had been her without evidence. After a plasma canon shot, there wouldn’t even be teeth left to ID him. The man had been dead meat walking the second he's signed up to be a First Class Ambassador anyway.

White light seemed to glow through the Pirate King and surround the body of Ambassador Winchester, and those big white wings curved in a bit like an eagle protecting its chicks. Ki’ak’g’har hefted her gun on autopilot. Something about those wings had her numb, like her brain had shut down, and muscle memory was the only thing she could function off. Before she could think, . Ki’ak’g’har took the shot, deadly accurate especially at this close distance. Plasma canons could blast a ship apart, never mind –  
_Fwoosh!_  
The wind from those huge wings knocked Ki’ak’g’har back on her ass, and the flames fell dead as the beat snatched their oxygen away. The plasma bolt had just vanished, or if it had hit the pair, it hadn’t even scratched them. What the fuck. What the actual fuck, that should have left nothing but charred stumps of legs. Ki’ak’g’har swallowed and readied her gun again, but the winged pirate didn’t take his attention off the man in his arms. With the care of an explosives professional with a Gravity Well mine, Lucifer laid Ambassador Winchester on some undamaged grass. And then his head snapped around. A small sound left Ki’ak’g’har’s lips before she could even register she was afraid. Even from this distance, that frozen blue glare _speared_ her. It wasn’t a physical pain, but something deep, something that clenched into a deep, dark part of her psyche and made the soldier choke on her own fear. Fuck this. She’d run to the ship gun and blast this creature to hell. 

But when Ki’ak’g’har turned to the remnants of her vessel, Lucifer reached out a hand as he stalked across the blue grass toward her. As he closed his fist, there was a screech of metal and the hull buckled. Steel that could withstand asteroids splintered, crunched in on itself, and Ki’ak’g’har’s whole ship folded into a blackened ball right before her very eyes. That was impossible. She blinked in shock for a moment, simply unable to believe her eyes. The soldier froze, body and mind numb with horror. There was only one option she could think of.  
“Ka’sha’hari’ak’antou’porl’orte – “. Ki’ak’g’har’s prayer stuttered to a halt, and she backed away through the debris of her own wrecked ship, eyes stuck on the Pirate King. In her terror, she fired another blind shot, but he just caught it on his palm and it vaporised. The air went ice cold under the shadow of those huge wings, even though flame had made it arid a moment ago, and Ki’ak’g’har stumbled over, caught in the aura of Lucifer’s wrath. It crackled around him, around her like ozone, filled her belly with the same primal fear thunder brought, and to her shame, a whimper pushed up the soldier’s throat as she dragged herself backward along the ground.  
“How dare you hurt him.” The Pirate King’s lip curled, and the ice in those words froze her with fear. “How _dare_ you.”

Ki’ak’g’har had two options and from everything she’d heard about this man, one was better than the other. So the soldier spun her plasma canon toward herself and squeezed the trigger with her tail. The plasma blast never came, and Ki’ak’g’har gulped in breath at the shock.  
“Oh, you’re under the impression you can get away that easily?” Lucifer lilted, then lashed a hand forward and crushed the weapon between his fingers like a dead leaf. “There are rumours about me. In the Syndicate.”  
He cocked his head with a cold, curious smile and Ki’ak’g’har’s breath choked as she clawed the grass into her fists.  
“No, no, please…”  
“Mm. Shall we find out which ones are true?” The soft nonchalance of this creature made her very skin shake. There was a soft hiss of metal on grass, and the Pirate King admired a jagged piece of ship debris that had lain in the grass beside them, even though there was a knife buckled onto his belt. Lucifer’s eyes held nothing, were just deep, hollow pits that seemed to suck in the light. “Time to make an example.”

After Lucifer left, the Cantayals called the spot the Glade of Blood, because the effigy in it, nor the metal warning plaque to the Syndicate ever decayed, even when the splinters of space ship had long been consumed by the grass.

***

The first thing Sam heard was his own breath. That was wrong. His eardrums had been blown out. He didn’t need Jess or Brady to tell him that’s what the sharp pain had been. But that shouldn’t have mattered. He should be dead. Plasma…the heat and light. Sam remembered pain on his legs that seared across the skin there and should have consumed his body down to the bone. The ambassador braved a twitch of his calf to see if the skin burned, but there was no pain. Although even if the plasma had somehow missed, the fall at that speed would have turned him into a blob of bone and meat jelly. But Sam didn’t feel like meat jelly. Somehow, he was alive. _Somehow_ being the optimum word.  
“Lucifer?” Sam croaked and squinted at what may well be the afterlife. He shifted an arm, but didn’t make it very far – he was strapped to a medical cot in what looked like…one of Lucifer’s segments? 

There was a shuffle of feet behind the ambassador’s head in the direction of the pilot seats, and then the shirtless Pirate King leaned over him, eyes soft with a kind of worry and concern Sam hadn’t seen on that cool face before.  
“Here. Sorry, I had to strap you down for take-off.” Lucifer reached over to undo the bands, and Sam sat up with a careful slowness. They were in a segment. A different segment than before, with an M-shift crew member whose name Sam couldn’t remember as pilot.  
“What happened?” Sam stretched a tentative hand forward to squeeze Lucifer’s bare shoulder, to affirm he was real. The ambassador blinked in surprise at just how cold the other man’s skin was, but… the pirate had always been a bit on the cool side, he supposed. The lack of both Lucifer’s Syndicate uniform and vest were the only things that hinted that they’d been hit by a plasma bolt, but the Captain’s leather pants seemed unharmed. Well, whatever that shit was made of, Sam would go full leather fetish if it was plasma-proof. Even the ambassador’s booty shorts had survived.  
“A gunner from the gunship that crashed here survived and attacked the segment.” Lucifer sighed and caught Sam’s hand in his own cool one. “I barely managed to get to you in time. If I had been a second later…”

The pirate paused for a moment, then Sam found himself hauled into a tight embrace. The ambassador held him in return, bewildered but glad as Lucifer planted a few quick kisses up the curve of his neck.  
“You stopped a plasma bolt? And how did we survive the crash?” Sam drew back to look the older man in the eye, and that familiar smirk pulled up Lucifer’s lip.  
“I’m not easy to kill, Sam. It’ll take more than a pesky plasma bolt to finish me off, never mind a small fall.” The Captain stroked gentle finger’s through the ambassador’s hair as mischief lit those blue eyes. All the time now, Sam saw more and more in them, far from the dead, cold things he’d shivered at on his arrival.  
“You took a _plasma bolt_ and survived?” The younger Winchester tried to keep the incredulous grin off his face, but critically failed. “And to think I tried to strangle you!”  
Lucifer’s eyes danced and he pursed his lips in amusement. “It was cute.”  
Sam was torn between awe and indignation, so chose the latter and gave the Captain a playful smack on the chest. “One day I’ll show you what a ferocious Syndicate soldier I am.”  
“You could be skinning someone with a piece of blunt spaceship debris and I would still think you were adorable.” Lucifer smirked and brushed a cold kiss on his cheek. Sam just trailed his fingers down to the Captain’s hip bone, as if his fingers could help unravel the puzzle that was Lucifer. Whatever he was, it was powerful. Sam didn’t know of any humanoid that could withstand plasma – the Pirate King seemed to be more and more formidable each day: a genius, seemingly indestructible, a patient teacher and a brutal military strategist…again, Sam could see why it had been like chasing smoke.

Lucifer noticed his gaze, and it seemed to stop whatever train of thought he’d been on.  
“Who ever said you were allowed to look at me like that.” The Captain ducked down and his lips caught Sam’s before the ambassador even had time to reply. Sam just hooked his legs around Lucifer’s hips and dragged the man closer as he drank in the heat and sensation of his mouth. Shit, the man was already hard, a delicious stiff line against Sam’s stomach. Fuck he wanted it. He wanted Lucifer inside him, he wanted to hear the Captain’s grunts and moans of pleasure, wanted to be taken like a fucking dog. Sam had never actually been fucked by any of his partners by kinda unhappy chance, but he’d had it simulated and tried toys out of sheer curiosity. It had been good, _fucking_ good, and he couldn’t wait to feel what a real cock inside him would be like, what Lucifer emptying his hot release inside him would be like. So Sam did the logical thing: eased the horny Captain away from him with the most innocent look he could muster. Lucifer cocked his head a little, eyes so heated they might burn him, and then the docking lights flashed.  
“Back to your pilot seat then? Or do you want me to do it?” Sam fell back into the sass with ease. Just because Lucifer survived plasma bolts didn’t mean Sam was going to throw himself at him. That wouldn’t be any fun at all.  
“Mm, I would, but you’d probably crash and destroy half my ship.” Lucifer’s expression moulded back to offhand, but his eyes didn’t. They had that hungry look, that look Sam had once been afraid of but now made a flush of heat race up his chest. Could he push him just a little more? Why not give it a shot. So the ambassador lowered himself back down onto the medical bunk, one knee bent and the other draped over the side so his toes brushed the floor. He put a relaxed hand behind his head and shot Lucifer the most innocent look he could muster while practically offering himself on a platter.  
“Off you go then.”  
Sam kept his expression Ambassador-trained-neutral as Lucifer just drank him in for a moment, then the man turned on his heel, frustration in every step. It was evil. Sam knew very well it was evil. He shouldn’t be taking quite this much delight in teasing the Captain but it was payback for making Sam work as a fucking slave. So Lucifer could suffer for just a bit longer, but not too long because well, he _had_ just saved his life.

***

If Lucifer had thought his distraction had been bad before, it was nothing compared to now, by the Universe…The Captain crossed his legs and pretended to stare out into the swath of space on the main visual screen as he went over it for about the fiftieth time this shift since he’d woken up from his much-needed nap. Sam had broken and by fuck had he broken, with results that Lucifer hadn’t fucking predicted. He hadn’t considered that if he pushed Sam, Sam would push him right back. Of course, he should have _known_ , with the soldier being the defiant bastard that he was. Lucifer could still feel the heat of the man’s hot skin against his chest like he hadn’t felt in hundreds of years, taste his willing, hungry lips, hear his breath decorated with those little intimate sounds, and feel the tingle in the thrum of energy through Sam’s soul; Lucifer was starved, and Sam knew it. The Captain hadn’t even thought his species could _be_ this hungry for touch, could crave another creature so much. 

Lucifer sighed and fiddled with his chair arm. He could take a break from the bridge if he wanted to; the chip locator on Sam told him the man was in their quarters. Lucifer hadn’t programmed him – it was just wrong now – and he didn’t dare feel out with his mind to find him because if he did, he’d spend ten minutes zoned out at staring at the man’s ass. Not respectable behaviour for a ship captain of his reputation. Just as Lucifer had resigned himself to another hour of uneventful space, a message popped up on his com from Sam. Huh, speak of the Devil. The Captain let out an ironic huff, then opened it.

I want to talk. I’m in our quarters right now if you’d like to come.  
\- Sam.

Lucifer’s lip quirked up a little and he tapped out an affirmative reply. Perhaps Sam had figured out another piece of the puzzle he’d been presented about the Syndicate or about himself. That’s what he liked about Sam – more than just a pretty thing, but desirable in every aspect.  
“Crowley.” He gestured at his seat for his second in command to look after things while he took a break and headed off the bridge.

 

“Sam. What – “  
_“Lucifer,”_ Sam’s moan plunged a heavy coil of desire straight down Lucifer’s chest into his groin before the door could even close behind him. The man was utterly naked on his stomach on the bed with one knee rested against the lip of the bed frame. His bronze skin glimmered in the dim light, damp with water from the shower, and his fingers clenched into the bed cover. Holy fuck, it was the most erotic thing Lucifer had ever laid eyes on.  
“Didn’t you want to talk?” Lucifer eased closer and could hear the huskiness in his own voice, as could Sam, who panted, eyes lazy. This had to be some kind of trick or dream…  
“I lied.” Sam moaned again, and his perfect, bare ass rolled as he ground into the bed. “I want you to ride me Lucifer, I want you to fuck me so hard I can’t remember my name, come inside me, fill me up with your cock, _fuck_ …”  
Sam was practically fucking the bed now, a scene of absolute wanton sex, and Lucifer didn’t need to be told twice. He locked the door with a flick of his hand and shrugged off his vest before he’d even closed half the distance between them. His dick thickened and filled his pants faster than he’d even thought possible as he took in the slick curves and edges of Sam’s musculature. Though it wasn’t just the sight that had done it; it was that Sam had let himself beg. There was no confusion or panic in those exquisite eyes any more, just utter need and it was more than Lucifer could ever resist even if he tried.

Sam made another high, needy noise as the blonde’s belt hit the floor, his eyes fixed on Lucifer’s erection. But he wasn’t going to get it, not straight away; the Captain had spent too long teased by that body, able to look but not touch, and now he wanted to indulge every privilege Sam would let him have.  
“You are the most gorgeous creature I have ever laid eyes on.” Lucifer murmured, and caught Sam’s bare ankle, which he tugged to draw a small gasp from Sam, kissed, then carried on to lave his tongue up that defined calf. Sam flinched and squirmed beneath him as the Captain hit a particularly good spot here and there, and although he was spoiling himself with the other man’s muscular thigh, Lucifer couldn’t keep his eyes away from that ass. Fuck, the skin looked so soft, but with dips of hard muscle beneath, and just the sight had his curved cock twitch out pre-come.

“Lucifer…” Sam panted and looked over his shoulder, damp hair a mess across his face. Lucifer didn’t answer, just reached up and squeezed that ass, scored furrows into the tight flesh as he licked and bit across the wonderful crease at the top of the man’s tan thigh. A shiver ran through Sam’s body, but like last time, he still seemed to quell any sounds. It didn’t matter; they’d get to breaking that wall down again. Then, as Sam opened his thighs wider, Lucifer noticed a line of slick from the other man’s entrance.  
“Mmm, now what’s this?” He ran a curious finger up the trail, and Sam jolted hard as he circled that tight ring of muscle.  
“I got drunk – “ Sam gritted out as a shudder ran through those broad shoulders. “ – and my idiot brother got me a cybernetic as a prank, ok? Well it was a joke, but it’s come in kinda hand – oh!”  
The man gasped as Lucifer slid a finger in him, just deep enough to reach the tell-tale hardness of the small rectangle just beneath the skin. The Captain wasn’t sure whether it was a good brother or a weird brother who bought their sibling a sex-preparation cybernetic, but he couldn’t complain.  
“I wonder…” He pressed his finger up against it, and to his delight, Sam gave a shocked gasp as it clicked to send buzzes up through to his prostate. “Mmm, fancy.”

Without warning, Lucifer flipped Sam over, pinned down both the man’s arms with all his strength and attacked his skin with ravenous hunger as Sam’s legs kicked out from the vibration on his pleasure. He sucked up the soldier’s thighs, bit at his hip bone, licked and worked his way up to those taught nipples as Sam arched up into him, breath harsh on those pretty lips. The thrum to his prostate must be driving him mad, but Lucifer was the frenzied one. He’d never experienced such blind instinctual drive that made him shove Sam’s jaw up with his nose with a low sound and suck the skin on his neck red with hunger, that made him thrust Sam’s thighs further apart with a rough push of one knee and had his usually-cool skin flush with lust. The other man’s breath gasped out faster, harder in delighted reply to Lucifer’s roughness, and his hands pulled against the Captain’s grip, tested how inescapable it was. Lucifer wanted skin against skin, he wanted Sam’s heat around him, wanted them to be so joined, so intimate that they could be one creature. It had been so long, too long, and Lucifer was wild for it.

“Lucifer, wait – “ Sam grunted as the older man brushed the sticky tip of his penis against the soft inside of those gorgeous thighs. Fuck if Sam was playing with him…  
“What.” Lucifer growled and nipped his slave on the jaw to draw out a hiss of pleasure. Sam struggled against his grip for a second, then Lucifer let him throw the hold off, and the other man turned back onto his stomach.  
“Like this.” Those pretty, perfect ass cheeks dragged either side of Lucifer’s cock as Sam arched his back like a bitch on heat and panted. “I want it like this.”  
“Doggy style, huh?” Despite the pleasure and desire, Lucifer couldn’t help a little grin.  
“Shut _up_.” Sam groaned, as though he knew full well which connections the Pirate King had put together. “Just get your dick in me.”  
The pretty thing ground back again, so hot and firm against him that Lucifer had to leave even a sassy retort for another time.  
“Mm.” The Captain grunted, and an uncontrollable flicker rippled across his stomach muscles at the temptation of that heat on his sensitive cock. Jokes aside, he really had no problem with watching himself fuck an ass as pretty as that. 

Lucifer teased that eager hole again with three fingers that slid easily inside thanks to the device, and pressed the vibrations off; he just wanted to feel Sam around him this time around, nothing else. With one hand, he flattened Sam onto the bed, and watched with captivated eyes as he removed his fingers and rubbed the head of his precome-wet cock in little circles on Sam’s nerve endings. The other man gasped fast and hard, sweat and moisture from the shower now damp on his shoulders, then shuddered tense as Lucifer eased inside him.

It was so hot. By the Universe, it was hot and tight, and he was inside this beautiful creature, he was mating with him, could feel Sam’s ragged breaths and the shivers of his body. Lucifer leaned forward, hands planted either side of the other man’s head as he closed his eyes and drank in the sensation of his slow movement. The silky bind of Sam’s ass squeezed him, massaged him as he moved deeper, but it wasn’t just that; Sam’s soul pulsed on the edges of sensation. It was something that he wouldn’t touch quite yet, but it still infused the body around him with defiant, heated energy that crackled up through parts of Lucifer that weren’t just physical. Before the pirate knew it, ragged, deep gasps dragged up from his chest as the sensations crowded his usually-controlled mind. Sam began to tremble, choke out moans muffled by the covers, but Lucifer didn’t stop his slow pace until the length of him was fully sheathed. He was so caught up the heat of Sam’s body and soul, fuck, the _heat_ , and the way Sam’s tight little hole squeezed the base of him, that he didn’t realize he’d been motionless and Sam’s gasps had become more and more needy.  
“Lucifer, for fuck’s sake _move!_ ” Sam _whined_ he actually whined and clawed one shaky hand into a pillow. Lucifer cheated a little, used the power he usually used to find people to locate Sam’s prostate, then with the slow decadence of someone trying to taste the depth of flavour in a new food, Lucifer drew his cock out till the head of his cock rubbed against it. He eased back in, and a moan left his throat before he could stop it as his foreskin was dragged off the sensitive tip with the motion.

“Yes – “ Sam growled as Lucifer repeated the action, and rocked his hips back. “Yes, yes, unh, fuck me!”  
His voice crept higher and more desperate, so Lucifer brushed that long hair off the back of his neck with a rough, distracted hand and bit the sensitive spot there.  
“Ah!” Sam hissed, and his ass clenched something incredible around Lucifer’s cock, so the Captain did it again, then drove in a little faster as he nuzzled up Sam’s jaw. The man nuzzled back, a picture of desperate pleasure; his lips were an open oval for his wild breath, saliva glinted on his chin where he’d lost control of himself, and the eye Lucifer could see was glassy as the man took in Lucifer’s pleasure-hungry expression. They both panted, breathed each other’s breaths, snatched messy kisses for a few desperate beats, but it was never going to last forever although Lucifer wished it could. Fuck, Sam’s energy thrummed around him, a parallel to the base need that shook the Captain’s thighs, but he wanted more, he wanted to be closer and deeper... With a grunt, Lucifer pushed one arm beneath and around Sam’s waist and the other around the man’s chest and pulled them tight together. Any member of his species that said carnal pleasure was a debasing sin could go fuck themselves; this was too good to abstain from.

“Unh, Sam!” Lucifer groaned, overwhelmed by the heat of Sam’s body and the way the man’s sweat-slick skin slid so smoothly against his own. He thrust deeper, a whole body movement that rubbed up Sam’s skin as that raw, hot ecstasy built in his groin. The other man let out a loud cry and fucked back against the movement, then moaned again, and suddenly Sam was moaning and crying like he wanted the whole ship to hear him, like he couldn’t control himself.  
“Good boy, Sam, good, come for me.” Lucifer growled as heat and dizziness boiled within him. He pumped faster and faster to the slick sound of lube, until he was fucking Sam like a desperate animal. Oh fuck, he was close, fuck he was going to shoot his seed into Sam, oh, just the _thought_ …

“Oh, fuck, fuck…” Sam gasped to their rhythm, eyes shut and knuckles white as he gripped the pillow. The other man’s whole body convulsed, and his thighs collapsed completely, spread as wide as was possible. Lucifer just pinned Sam with his weight, rutted the man hard into the bed as he bit down on the back of this beautiful thing’s neck right where he seemed to love it.  
“Ahh-h!” Sam suddenly arched up and tried to writhe in his arms, but was trapped under Lucifer’s bulk. He _felt_ Sam come. Felt him tense, felt him buck up against the cock inside him when he emptied himself onto the sheets. Felt his skin spasm against Lucifer’s own, felt his breath gasp through those shoulders pressed tight against Lucifer’s chest. _Shit._ Lucifer cried out as Sam’s muscles squeezed him, as the head of him rubbed hard against Sam’s spasming walls for a few more frantic pumps, and then he crushed them together. The Captain gave one, hard thrust and he buried his face in Sam’s neck as his cock swelled and pulsed his seed into this gorgeous body with ecstatic little twitches of his hips. Lucifer’s power, his energy lapped against Sam’s soul, and the other man spasmed a hand out with a shocked gasp. But the Captain wasn’t sure whether the human was quite ready for that yet, so he revelled in the sensation of skin moulded against him as they panted down from their highs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wings are here! Lol, Dean's always been a bit of a weirdo pimp with Sam. But no cliffhanger this time! Miracles I say. Anyway, thank you all so much for reading, and I hope you enjoyed this chapter ^.^ I'd love to hear what you think of it, your comments always make my day so much! Thank you to everybody who has already taken the time to leave comments and kudos, y'all are amazing. Stay awesome buddies! (つ≧▽≦)つ⊂(・ヮ・⊂)
> 
> If you'd like to support me, you can [check out my novel](https://www.kobo.com/nz/en/ebook/tea-in-the-outback) or [donate!](https://www.paypal.com/cgi-bin/webscr?cmd=_s-xclick&hosted_button_id=TT3Q6W95QFSM2) ^.^


	20. Feathers

After a little while, Lucifer had to go back to the bridge – the bind of ship’s captains was that their free time was hard won and scarce, even for someone as commanding as Lucifer. But Sam wasn’t new to the arrangement, as it had been the same way with Dean when he’d been in captaincy training, so bitterness at Lucifer’s departure didn’t enter into the equation. In fact…he slumped into the bed as heavy relaxation crept into his eyelids. Sam didn’t know what it was about Lucifer – his species, his experience, or that it had been Sam’s first time being fucked like that, but hell, he’d never had such good sex in his life. His head was still at the moment Lucifer had come in him, had burned heat up the lowest part of his back, then…the ambassador didn’t know what Lucifer had done, but something buried deep in him had sparked with sudden electric bliss in a straight line through his crown, throat, stomach and groin. It had been far too raw and sudden to be a residual wave from his own orgasm, but Lucifer didn’t appear to have felt it, nor did it happen again, so maybe it was just a random pleasure spike or…something. Sam sighed and dragged himself upright. He’d better clean himself up, really. 

There was a flicker of guilt in the ambassador’s stomach – he knew he’d broken his promise to himself to never let Lucifer sleep with him, but Sam felt as though he’d made that promise about a different man (or being); he’d promised himself that the cutthroat, murderer who pillaged innocent settlements and bought him for sex would never touch him. Not the snarky Captain that killed to stop injustice, who’d bought him for his looks and company. Sam sighed as the thought of the situation of Uralias Omicron and the Jormjyr crept across his mind again, then he ran his hand over his mouth in thought. He still was on the fence about asking Lucifer about it, but if he figured it out for himself, he wouldn’t have to even ask. 

The ambassador hissed a little as he headed over to the bathroom, but the ache in his ass was kinda satisfying. A great big Lucifer Was Here success stamp for Sam. He waved on the shower and backtracked to his thoughts on his problems. Both of his mother’s planet and the Volsung had been attacked by plasma fire. When he’d watched Lucifer annihilate the Syndicate Trading Ships, the pirates had used lasers – more precise, less powerful and more continuous, versus bursts of extremely powerful, widespread damage. It wouldn’t be uncommon for a ship to have two or more gun types, and it was likely Lucifer himself hadn’t been at either of those attacks, which meant any of the ships in the fleet could have a various array of munitions, like the crew seemed to carry. The ship on the recording looked similar to one of The Cage’s segments but he’d watched that video enough times to determine it was a different type. Perhaps they were similarly armed? Sam wasn’t sure. The ship on Volsung had fired, but from the droid’s angle, it hadn’t been possible to tell what kind of fire. It seemed time, now that he didn’t seem to have any programming set, to investigate further and save himself from any awkward questions. 

The ambassador stepped under the heated water, even though he’d rather be covered in Lucifer scent. In an odd quirk of his species, the Captain didn’t seem to sweat, but still smelled like the air after a lightning strike or the ozone of the sky, and it had seeped into Sam’s skin as Lucifer had held them so close together. Not that the Captain had left him bereft of reminders that they’d slept together – red and purple marks dotted down his throat, chest and thighs. He kinda wished he could do the same to Lucifer but hell, if a plasma bolt couldn’t scratch him, Sam doubted his teeth would. The muscular brunette thought back to Dean for a moment as the water splashed across his broad shoulders. Dean would think him dead by now, or at least lost. Space was, well, space. A vast haystack that simply swallowed things and people, with such a slim chance of a lucky discovery that it wasn’t even worth calculating after two or more weeks of a disappearance. But Dean had his ship, his crew and his career. It looked like it was now Sam’s turn to start a new chapter in the book of his life.  
  
***

It turned out Sam didn’t have to do as much sneaking as he thought he would. He followed the starbust symbol he’d picked up on at his first exploration attempt of The Cage, but this time when he came to the Engine Room door, it slid open in the usual triangle segments. Lucifer must have adjusted the rank on his chip, now he assumed the ambassador wouldn’t try to escape; Sam wondered for a moment what he was classed as. A Private? The Captain’s Boyfriend? Sam sniggered to himself at that one, but he wouldn’t settle for it. He wouldn’t settle properly until he could be an ambassador again at Lucifer’s side.  
Like usual, the crew shot looks at him as he entered the room, yet the eyes snapped away as soon as they caught on the marks Lucifer had made on him. But Sam ignored them as he usually did, if a little more smugly, fascinated by the sight that met his eyes: He stood in a wide circular space that must be part of the core of the ship. The ambassador still had no clue how The Cage worked in specifics, but according to logic, the moving segments must have a base and the engine must power that base. That is if this whole place wasn’t an anomaly like Lucifer. Sam smirked at the thought that probably both Jess and Brady would swoon at the opportunity he’d been given to study a creature like the Captain, but doubted very much the secretive man would even let Sam do medical tests on him. 

In the centre of the room hung a large black orb. It bugged him for a few moments what it could be, but Dean’s ship-nerding-out swam back, and the realization made Sam’s eyebrows lift. An Utgaven ni Vannkjerne – a ship drive that was both powerful and expensive to buy, but so efficient it outclassed anything in the field; its by-product was more than enough pure water to keep a crew of over 300 with drinking and showering material for as long as the engine ran. Custom add-ons were fixed to the side that Sam didn’t recognize but he assumed had to be the Pzyxik Cloak or a shield device of some kind. Sam padded over to the left of the Vannkjerne, to which an antimatter booster for light speed travel had been attached. With The Cage being as…well, detachable as it was, he assumed that was only for emergencies; light speed might rip apart a ship like this if used for too long or too often. But although the engines were interesting, they couldn’t give him the answers he really wanted.

It took Sam a little longer to find a Weapon Bay, but like the Engine Room, the doors to it slid open for him. A long chrome floor, similar to the Cargo Hold stretched out, shielded off to protect system monitors from the laser light of the one gun control unit in the bay – The Cage seemed to work on an older system; manual control versus AI control on their weapons, which Sam found both odd but fitting; manual control made it harder for their weapons to be hacked, reprogrammed, malfunction or get taken out by EMPs, but unless you had good gunners, their accuracy was 25% worse if he recalled Dean’s frickin graphs. Sam supposed that the other military buffs who looked at the stocky, gravel-voiced idiot that was his brother would never suspect their holy idol made enthusiastic graphs about spaceships. 

“What are you doing here?” A familiar voice spat as Sam examined the displays for any suggestion of plasma weaponry. Shit.  
“I’m curious.” Sam turned around and crossed his arms as he glared at the red headed bitch Lucifer had called Abaddon. The woman’s lip curled as she looked up at him; even with her killer heels, he still had a good few inches on her.  
“What’s a dumb whore like you got to be curious about?” She hissed, and flipped the switch in Sam from nonchalant to bitchy.  
“What’s a feral dog like you doing around something as complicated as this?” He sniped back, and as if to prove his point, she let out a furious growl.  
“I should skin you alive, you impudent little bastard!” Abaddon stalked right up to him, but Sam didn’t even flinch. If she tried anything on him, he’d faint to the side, grab the gun opposite her flail on her belt and shoot her dead without a second thought.  
“I’d like to see you try. But lucky for you, I’m done here.” It was true – The Cage had to have more than one gun, and he wanted to check out any readouts of the battle segments he could find for plasma weapons. “Try not to touch anything you don’t understand.”  
And with that he turned on his heel and stalked out. He missed how Abaddon tore the flail off her belt, and also how she crumpled to the floor before she could take two steps.

It took Sam almost the rest of M shift to navigate around The Cage to the other Weapon Bays and through the battle segments, but he didn’t find anything even close to plasma weapons. Of course, that didn’t mean the different ship that had attacked the Jormjyr didn’t have that kind of power…something tugged at Sam’s gut. Some leftover soldier instinct that said something was off, it wasn’t right, like a piece to a puzzle that fit in shape but didn’t match the picture.  
There was a ding in his head, and his display module leapt up in front of his vision. Sam started for a moment; it had been before Canataya Lambda that he’d used his screen and he’d almost forgotten it could switch itself on like that.

Come to our chambers. I have something to show you. And no, this is not a thinly veiled invitation for sex, though you could persuade me.

\- Lucifer.

That smarmy bastard. Sam grinned and replied that he was on his way.

 

_You have done well. Better than I thought you would, although I did not wish to see all that your…’methods’ resulted in. But you have provided me with ammunition, armed my cause and given me an opportunity that comes about once in a lifetime. You, you have given me this one shot, and now it is time to take it. This war will come to an end, as it should have done so long ago. Your sacrifice will not be in vain, and you must be sacrificed, as much as it weighs on my heart. You have seen too much, you have fallen too far and I do not think you can be trusted. It will not be the first time a sacrifice has been made for the greater good, but hopefully it will be the last. You fought so hard like her, but all in your ilk meet the same fate. Can’t you see? This is the only way forward. The only way to end this. I wish it did not have to be you, but for the longest time your fate has been a young death. Perhaps it is fitting that I will be the one to end you._

 

The doors hushed open like usual as Sam approached them. If he found Lucifer buck naked on the bed, the Captain was going to have to wait through Sam’s incredulous laughter to get laid. But no – true to his word, Lucifer wasn’t draped naked across anything, but in the centre of the huge room, eyes fixed on the space above them. The minimal couch and coffee table had been turned and stacked against the wall, as if the Pirate King expected them to get damaged or something if he didn’t move them.  
“Ah, Sam.” Lucifer shot him a perky little smile and laced his fingers in a cup at his hips like he did so often.  
“You called, Your Majesty?” Sam let his lip quirk up, even though his tone was sarcastic.  
“Ooh, I like that.” The blonde winked with his roguish grin. “Could you say that again on your knees?”  
“How about you tell me what you hauled my ass across the ship for?” Sam smirked back, though he tucked that little suggestion away for later.  
“First of all, I…heard about your little dispute with Abaddon.” The Captain began to pace, a finger pushed against those gorgeous curved lips. “I realize she harbours a great deal of jealousy toward you, so I will try and ensure your paths don’t cross. It would be nice if you didn’t poke at each other, but I suppose not every ship environment can be perfect.”  
“It would be nice if she didn’t call me a whore at every turn.” Sam huffed and crossed his arms. Was this all Lucifer had brought him here for? A little ‘get along with the crew’ pep talk? To his surprise, Lucifer chuckled and shook his head.  
“You’re so catty and it amuses me no end.” The asshole smirked and Sam just shot him the bitchiest face he could muster.  
“Must come from hanging around you too much.”  
“Of course. I’m assuming you were the most docile, placid little creature before you met me.” Lucifer’s eyes twinkled, but before he could tell the Pirate King that pre-slavery Sam would have still requested that Lucifer suck his fucking dick, the man continued. “I erased Abaddon’s memory this time, but there’s only so many times I can do that before she gets suspicious.”  
“You have that kind of tech here?” Sam dropped his sass for disbelief. He had heard of it – tech developed for medicinal and military purposes but as always wormed its way into the wrong hands. It was illegal; life imprisonment was handed to anyone with illicit memory technology, but Sam supposed Lucifer was wanted dead or alive anyway.  
“Tech? No. I can do more than just deflect plasma, Sammy.” Lucifer tapped his own nose, and the ambassador wondered if there was anything Lucifer _couldn’t_ do.  
“What _are_ you?” The question dropped from Sam’s lips before he could stop it; Lucifer had already told him the answer was off limits, but he couldn’t help it. A sly smile crept over the Pirate King’s face, and without breaking Sam’s gaze, he shrugged off his vest and held both hands out in front of him for Sam to take.  
“How about I give you a little hint, hm?” That gaze was playful, and Sam took his hands, more curious than ever. 

Lucifer closed his eyes, and Sam got that odd feeling again, that weird change in air pressure that pulled on the inside of his ears. Something white flickered behind the Pirate King, then, as he watched, huge feathers folded out, uncrumpled into a pair of wings that almost spanned half the room. Sam’s mouth just hung open as he watched them give a little shake, as if happy to be out of whatever confines Lucifer kept them in. A soft glow emanated out from them, so that the shadows of each large feather showed through where they overlapped and the aura or energy or whatever it was around them made the air cool, made it taste like snow-frozen wind from the shoulder of a mountain. Sam swallowed as the plumage glided through the air and dipped toward him a little. It wasn’t fear, but something close – the wings felt like a crack of thunder that shook a house, like watching a hungry fire consume everything in its path, like staring out into the vast, unending stretch of space from a transparent observation deck. All of a sudden Sam felt so small and insignificant beside this creature, a primitive man peering in wonder and horror at a thing beyond his comprehension. It took Sam until his lungs hurt to realize he’d been holding his breath, entranced by the raw beauty of these things.

“Are you alright Sam?” The low tone of Lucifer’s voice brought him back to himself, and a calloused thumb smoothed a tear off his cheek. Shit, he hadn’t even realized…  
“Yeah, I just…” Sam trailed off, and tried to get a hold of himself as his most primal human instinct pumped him full of adrenaline to fight or flee. “I feel very small for some reason.”  
He barked out a short laugh that still wasn’t sure of itself.  
“For the record, your reaction is better than most.” A wry, almost ironic smile crept across Lucifer’s charismatic face. “Some beings fall to their knees, some run and some even disintegrate – not that I make it a habit to flash these around.”  
With a hollow rasp, he shuffled the white feathers like someone might rub their hands together. “In fact you are one of the few humans to ever see my wings.”

Sam swallowed again, a little dizzy from adrenaline as he watched the liquid fold and dip of white plumage.  
“What…I mean how…?” He seemed to be having problems with words at the moment, transfixed, although Lucifer’s solid touch that slid down to his shoulder helped him not get lost in wonderment.  
“They are extensions of who I am. What I am.” Again with that sly smile, and before Sam knew it, a strong arm looped around his waist, and the ground dropped away from them before Lucifer had even swung him into a proper bridal-style hold.  
“W – hey!” Sam laughed, breathless as he wrapped his arms around the other man’s neck. So that’s why the Pirate King had such massive quarters – it wasn’t so much a room as an aviary for Lucifer to stretch his wings, and fuck…Sam had flown spaceships, even race capsules, but nothing compared to the visceral sensation of the air on his face, with only Lucifer’s arms between him and a fall to his death. The ambassador was lucky he liked this kind of rush. _Loved_ it. Loved the tug in his belly as Lucifer dove, the burst in his chest as the Captain wove between broken struts, the elated laughter as they skimmed the floor, then spiralled back up into the air again. It was the most pure fun Sam had had in _years_.

“There. You’re looking a little less overwhelmed now.” Lucifer’s lip curved up as they swooped down to land, and paired with his heavy lidded eyes, it was more of a seductive expression than an amused one. Sam didn’t even wait for his feet to hit the floor; he tangled his fingers in that sandy blonde hair and kissed Lucifer hot and hard, pushed the energy from his adrenaline into Lucifer’s mouth with a rough tongue and eager sucks on his lips. The cool skin of the Pirate King’s chest seemed to drink in his heat, and Sam made a hungry moan into the other man’s mouth as those strong fingers dragged possessive lines into his back muscles. Sam’s own hand stuttered to a halt before it dipped down, because a little further and they would hit where those electric wings sprouted from just behind the Pirate King’s shoulder blades. The first rule anyone was taught in school was to never touch something obviously alien, be it a plant, a species, or in this case, a pair of wings that had brought him to tears with just their aura.

“It won’t hurt you.” Lucifer must have felt his movement slow with care, and he kissed up Sam’s 5’o clock shadow. “But it might be…interesting.”  
“Inter – mm – interesting?” Sam managed out between kisses. Fuck, he’d forgotten how much he loved this, loved the taste and heat of another person. Endless study did that – let you forget that intensity of touch, dulled down desire into something tiresome and unattainable. But Sam was kind of glad he’d gone for such a dry stretch during his ambassador training, as now it was as if his senses were hyper-sensitive to pleasure.  
“As I said,” Lucifer scratched light nails down Sam’s spine, and the ambassador arched into the sensation with a delighted huff of breath. “They are extensions of what I am, but I have not been touched like that in…”  
Lucifer trailed off with a small chuckle and a warm kiss on the soft skin behind Sam’s ear. “Well, far too long.”

With careful fingers, Sam traced down the first feather he found. Its texture seemed oddly normal for a moment: smooth and soft. Then tingles trickled down his fingers with a kind of cold that seemed to shoot out along his skin like cracks out from a hole punched in ice. It lapped up his arm as he stroked up into the smaller feathers that curved out from the bone ridge and plunged an electric buzz through his chest. It was like he was touching a protective coating on some sort of live power source – perhaps that wasn’t far off the truth. Lucifer gave a tense huff into his neck, and Sam wasn’t sure whether it was from pleasure, pain or something else, but Sam figured the Captain wasn’t someone who would let anyone do something he didn’t want. So the ambassador continued, ran the tips of his nails down the quills, flattened his palms against the glowing plumage, and after a moment, they moved to him.

Lucifer’s lips caught his throat as long outer feathers stroked up his calves and shot tingles up his legs too. Sam watched in wonder as the great things curved inwards, surrounded them, and a flash of white was recalled back from his memory. Before the plasma hit, that was what he’d seen; Lucifer had shielded them in his wings. But he got little time to dwell on both his awe or his memory, as the Pirate King panted a little harder, sucked, nipped at his neck, then yanked at his shorts so hard, the metal clasp pinged off against the metal floor. A coil of hard lust pushed through the electricity in Sam’s chest; Lucifer didn’t make love. That word was too soft, nor could his passion be described with a word as clinical as sex. He _possessed_.  
“I want you again.” Sam hissed as he dragged gentle teeth down the rim of Lucifer’s ear. His half hard cock pushed to full mast at the two, rough tugs that stripped off his shorts and had him naked again. He was so unused to that, offering his body to someone he’d spent so long trying to resist, and the taboo had his breath pant out faster. Sam wondered whether Lucifer felt the same about his wings. “Fuck me with your wings out.”

As if to push his point, the ambassador curled his fingers into the smaller feathers at the apex of both Lucifer’s wing joints that had dipped down, as if hungry for his touch. The Captain gave a hot moan into his neck, and an electric shot tingled down his spine as Lucifer’s scruff scraped all the nerves across his shoulder. The Captain’s plumage tore away from Sam’s hands and out into a bright arc splayed huge above both of them. They stretched their full length, and the odd _fwoosh_ of air echoed around the room as the wings gave quick little flaps which seemed to imitate beckoning. But before Sam could react, they stopped and the feathers spread in such a way that the bottom ones separated from each other, jagged and even more imposing. The ambassador recognized similarities from the nature shows Jess liked to watch; the Pirate King was putting on a mating display for him, and all he could do was stare. His breath caught on that sensation of awe again, and something deep down, in sort of the same place he’d experienced the sudden bliss after Lucifer came inside him last time, curled in response, burned to accept the proposition. But Sam didn’t have wings to reply, so he simply reached down and yanked Lucifer’s belt undone. The Pirate King caught his lips again and kissed Sam as though he was the only source of oxygen in the room. 

Lucifer’s strong hand massaged down his ass, then the ambassador made a sudden erotic noise as a finger pushed into him just deep enough to press the cybernetic on. Sam secretly thanked Dean’s pimp-like attitude on getting him laid that had led to his brother buying him this cybernetic that made fucking so damn easy – the device cleaned him out, lubed him up and relaxed his muscles where he needed it so he could take a vibrator, or more recently a cock, in ten or so seconds. And holy shit was he going to take advantage of it, no matter how much he’d been pissed at Dean when he woke up with a hangover and a cybernetic record.  
“Mm!” Sam moaned into the other man’s lips, breath violent and hungry. He leapt up to wrap his legs around that thick-muscled waist as Lucifer’s finger massaged the device again. Vibrations sparked tingles out to his forearms then welled an urgent, dull pleasure in his belly. With any other lover, Sam wouldn’t have dared to test them with all his weight, but the Captain took it all with one arm and a enthusiastic grunt as he continued to finger fuck the synthesized lube deeper.  
“Oh fuck, oh, “ Sam squeezed his eyes tight and rode the intrusion into his body with earnest, fucking himself with no shame whatsoever, oh _fuck_ he needed more!  
“I could – get off on you just losing control – “ Lucifer’s voice was ragged where his lips dragged rough, red patches onto Sam’s neck. “ _Fuck_ Sam!”

A third finger joined the first two and pumped his sweet spot so hard and fast the ambassador could only cling on and keen from this onslaught as he saw stars. Hot sweat broke out across his chest and shoulders, his legs trembled around Lucifer’s waist, his mouth was desperate and wet across any skin he could reach and white popped under his eyelids. On instinct, Sam bucked his cock against the other man’s bare stomach to the slick sound of his own precome and lube.  
“’M gonna come, fuck, I’m gonna come.” Sam groaned, but it seemed like that was the sign Lucifer was waiting for. That cruel, merciless bastard slid his fingers out with a press that stopped the vibrations too. The ambassador didn’t see his face at the noise of utter frustration Sam let out, but he betted it was that stupid, sexy smirk.  
_“Lucifer!”_ He knew that he was begging, but his body was so desperate for sex that he rolled his hips back without anything to fuck himself on.

There was a whoosh of wings, a strong pair of arms crushed Sam so tight against the other man’s body that he let out an obscene moan at the press on his tight cock, and then they were in the air again. There was a vicious kind of purpose to the snap of those wings now, not the graceful dance of before. The thud as Sam’s back hit a wall resounded through his whole body, he was breathless at the height he could see they were at over Lucifer’s shoulder –  
“Yes!” Sam threw his head back and cried, mad with the fever to be taken as the tip of Lucifer’s wet cock pushed against his spasming, sensitive hole. The Captain’s wings beat slow and steady, kept them in the air with tireless strength.  
“Mm Sam…” Lucifer’s teeth grazed his shoulder, then bit down hard as, with the downward beat of his wings, he thrust into Sam’s body. It _filled_ him. Sam could never get used to how it tightened his belly, how that cock burned thick and stiff inside him, how he _trembled_ through all his muscles. A moan tore out from behind gritted teeth, and he clawed under Lucifer’s wings, had to hold on to something through the heat and pleasure. The pirate made a harsh grunt, then beat his wings again, pushed up further into Sam as they slid up the wall, pinned him in place with an arm of incredible strength, then pulled out to just the head as he let the height he’d gained drop off again. Oh, Sam loved the way the movement teased his sensitive ring of muscle and he tried to roll his hips, fuck himself harder, come all over them and ease the tight throb in his balls –  
“Sam, Sam – “ Lucifer broke off into a choked shudder as the ambassador clutched at the feathers at the base of his wings, but fuck, the thick head of Lucifer’s cock had just thrust against his pleasure button – “Sam, I want to mate with your soul.”

Those wings made a hollow _whump_ and the world tipped for a moment, then Sam gulped in breath as he found his back on a horizontal surface – one of the broken struts Lucifer used as an obstacle course.  
“W-what?” His whole body throbbed with an orgasm that had to be just fucking moments away, he could hardly focus dizzy eyes on the man above him, and he tried to rock his hips, but a powerful grip stopped any kind of movement. No, fuck, that wasn’t fair… A needy whine pushed out the ambassador’s throat before he could stop it.  
“Your soul, your inner energy, I want it.” Lucifer growled with such hunger that a shiver flickered up Sam’s body from where the other man’s heavy erection sat with excruciating, unmoving pressure against his prostate. His soul? That seemed a little…serious? Permanent?  
“W-well what…what does it mean, what will it do to me?” He panted and squeezed his body around that hard cock, desperate for it to move again. Lucifer just let out a breathy chuckle, but his eyes stayed dark.  
“Don’t worry, we won’t have a mysterious connection and you won’t lose anything…just it can be a little intense and it’s polite to ask.” 

The Pirate King’s wings flared up over them as if in anticipation, and Sam moaned as another frustrated shiver lanced up his lower back. He trusted Lucifer. Lucifer would never hurt him or lie to him, and fuck, he was going to go insane if the Captain didn’t move soon.  
“Alright. So long as you fucking get on with it, I’m dying here.” He tried to sound composed, but it came out as more of a moan, and the grip on his hips relaxed. Lucifer shot him an amused little smile, then those strong hands caught his wrists and pressed them against the cool metal beside Sam’s head.  
“Ready?”  
“For fuck’s sake Lucifer!” Sam barely had time to finish the sentence, because the Pirate King thrust so deep into him it punched a grunt out his chest. A spiderweb of gentle bliss trickled out of points in his crown, throat, stomach and groin, and Sam’s hips stuttered, as if his head was unsure what to focus on.  
“Lucifer, what – “ Sam broke off as a loud groan he couldn’t control ripped from his lips. His neck arched back, his eyes flew wide and electric tingles burst up from Lucifer’s next beat in. Oh fuck, that’s what he’d felt last time, oh shit, his body arched, struggled against the hands that pinned him down. He looked up at Lucifer with dazed eyes that probably read ‘what have you done to me’, because he couldn’t…nothing, _nothing_ felt like this. 

Lucifer just watched him with flushed cheeks as his pure white feathers shook so hard they made a strange hollow rattle – like a peacock but deeper and louder. It thrummed right down to Sam’s bones like a rumble of thunder.  
“That’s it Sam, that’s it.” Lucifer panted, then his scruffy jaw tilted back with pleasure, and an astounded high noise left the ambassador’s lips as a gorgeous tremor shot down him and made his toes curl. Sam’s whole body buzzed like a teased nerve ending, like all of him was as sensitive as his groin or nipples. His skin shuddered, shook as euphoric ripples lanced up through him, down through him, in streaks along his veins in patterns. His eyes didn’t know where to look, his body didn’t know what this was, didn’t know what to do with so much sensation, fuck, fuck, how was this _possible?_ Sam could barely even feel Lucifer inside him anymore, but he could feel himself struggle, his legs kick out as Lucifer held him down through this. 

Then something moved in him again – perhaps in his body, perhaps deeper than that, but Sam convulsed so hard his body lifted off the strut.  
“Oh fuck oh- “ Electric bliss washed the world away as an ecstatic pulse shot through this energy inside him, and he writhed, unable to stop, unable to control any movement of his body. He could hear himself cry, then scream – _really_ scream – as his vision burst into white blotches, like he was in some sort of Bacchic mania of ecstasy, and he didn’t want it to end, this pure, white hot moment. He could feel himself try to scratch against Lucifer, but couldn’t hear his lover, couldn’t see him, oh fuck, he was going to die from this, burn up –  
With his eyes closed, somewhere in the depths of his fit of bliss, Sam caught a glimpse of something. A light far too bright to look at for more than a split second, something vast and brilliant like a white dwarf gone supernova, but it was washed away by another ferocious wrack of sensation. Sam juddered without control, but it didn’t feel as though he had a body anymore. It was like he were made of pure energy while something plunged through him, ravaged and stroked him as Sam and this _alien_ tangled into each other. Bliss exploded at every touch, it couldn’t be possible, it couldn’t be real…all he could do was scream and writhe in euphoria until Lucifer was done with him.

How long it lasted, Sam had no idea. Maybe he’d passed out, or perhaps he’d been awake for the whole glorious thing, blended into one moment of pure, sheer ecstasy. His throat burned from where he’d screamed himself hoarse, his skin tingled, electric under Lucifer’s collapsed weight. Every inch of his body somehow felt energized and clean, like something had clicked into place deep down and aligned him. Sam blinked, his face wet from unrestrained tears and saliva. He’d come somewhere along the line, but when and how many times the ambassador had no idea, just that his cock was soft and sated, and a sticky mess was still warm between his and Lucifer’s bodies. The Pirate King’s wings hung over the beam on either side of them, limp. At some point, Lucifer had relinquished Sam’s wrists to wrap his arms under and around him – the Captain seemed to love being squished up against Sam’s skin, probably because he was a chilly bastard and Sam burned like a furnace.

“Mmm.” The ambassador groaned and twitched his body to bring himself back to reality some more. Everything hummed with residual pleasure, although bruises pulsed on his heels and other parts of his feet where he must have kicked out against the beam or Lucifer himself, and his wrists throbbed a little too, but…fuck. Holy, holy fuck.  
“You ok there Sammy.” Lucifer breathed into his shoulder, and the arms around his torso squeezed him a little. Sam wondered if having his arms squished against hard metal was uncomfortable for Captain Plasma Beam Deflection, or whether nothing like that could phase him.  
“Intense.” Sam laughed out in a voice as coarse as stone and stared up at the dark, arched ceiling. “You weren’t kidding.”  
“Thank you for letting me.” Lucifer nuzzled into his shoulder, content and relaxed. “You felt so good Sam, you have so much fire in you.”  
“’Felt good’ was a bit of an understatement.” The ambassador chuckled and hugged his lover loosely around the back and shoulders as those long, silky feathers teased the skin of his arms. “I’m…I’m not sure whether I could take that every time though.”  
“Wouldn’t want to spoil you now.” Lucifer lifted his head a little bit, so Sam could see his lip quirk, and the ambassador leaned up to steal a kiss. 

A warmth blossomed in Sam’s chest. It didn’t feel like the energy Lucifer had lit him up with, but something more familiar yet just as deep; the sensation he felt when he laughed with Dean shooting cans. The sensation he felt when he tucked a blanket over Bobby when he dozed off on his worn old couch. The sensation he’d felt when he’d walked through the door of their home on Uralias Omicron to see their mom always glad to see them back with a welcoming smile. Something safe and warm and achingly happy.  
“Who said you were allowed to look at me like that?” Lucifer’s voice was a hushed, amused murmur, but Sam didn’t miss the warmth in those usually cold eyes.  
“Nobody, but I’m going to anyway.” Sam smiled back and stroked a large hand through that messy blonde hair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lol, I couldn't help myself with the wings. ᵐʸ ᵏᶦᶰᵏˢ ʰʳᶰᵍ This is where y'all might figure some stuff out, ay? ;) We've got a fun chapter coming up next week! But I hope you enjoyed this chapter and I would love to hear what you thought of it! I really really enjoy all your theories and opinions on the events - it makes me excited to update again! You guys are the reason I keep at this! So leave a comment if you like, and thank you so much to everybody who had already commented and kudos'd! You are all the best and I always have a little burst of happiness when I see your messages in my inbox ♥ Stay awesome my buddies .｡*ﾟ+.*.｡ଘ( ᐛ ) ଓ+..｡*ﾟ+


	21. The Sins of the Father

Lucifer, thankfully, did not opt to make them both sleep up in the rafters, but carried Sam back down. The ambassador still tingled all over, and the floor buzzed when his bare feet touched it, as if he were a live wire that shot energy through everything it touched. Sam wasn’t sure how Lucifer even had the will to fly instead of just lie and bask in this sensation, but perhaps this was a normal mating…thing for his species.  
“Mm, I suppose you’re going to make me get you dinner.” Sam sighed from where he leaned against the table, still buck ass nude because _someone_ had broken the clasp on his shorts. They were currently being fixed by the Cleaning System, but it’d take three minutes at least.  
“I could get used to a naked manservant.” Lucifer’s playful eyes ran up him as the Captain tugged his leathers back on, wings folded back again into whatever plane or device that stored them. Sam supposed they’d get in the way if they were out all the time.  
“Yeah, and you can suck my dick.” Just because Lucifer had blown his mind and possibly his soul, didn’t make Sam any less inclined to sass his face off.  
“Oh, Sammy, always the flirt.” The Captain winked, but instead of rolling his eyes, Sam just pulled the best bedroom eyes and smirk.  
“Yeah, and you can’t get enough of it.” Sam just loved how a flash of surprise passed over Lucifer’s expression before his gorgeous lip quirked up at that. Those cool hands ran down the defined muscle of Sam’s thighs, but the ambassador didn’t break smug eye contact.  
“Maybe I will get you dinner. Just for tonight. Just because I like you.” Lucifer leaned up just a little and kissed him on the nose. The terrible, fearsome Pirate King had just kissed his nose, and that was far too cute for Sam to handle. He broke into a grin and shook his head as Lucifer sauntered away. 

A moment later a bundle of warm leather cuffed him over the head.  
“Asshole!” Sam laughed and flipped off the other man who’d chucked it at his head.  
“Grumpy.” Lucifer grinned and a snake tongue – not a split human tongue like before, an actual red snake’s tongue – flicked out between the other man’s teeth.  
“You don’t scare me with your weird tongues.” Sam still had no idea how Lucifer did that, but whatever Lucifer was, the rules that restricted him seemed few and in between. Unless it concerned guns and volcanic planets and menial chores.  
“I bet my tongues could make you scream though.” The flirty asshole winked as he collected their food from the dispenser, and Sam slid back into his shorts. The sensation of material over this electric remnant made him shiver for a moment, and Sam kinda wondered how long this afterglow would last – not the he was complaining.  
“Oh, I’ll take you up on that one of these days.” Sam smirked and helped himself to his gwinche as he leaned against the table in his usual spot. “How was your day, anyway? Apart from the distractions.” 

Lucifer took the only seat at the giant metal table and swung his legs on to the surface. Sam deigned to let the Captain’s appalling seat manners slide tonight, since he’d been _gracious_ enough to not make Sam get them dinner.  
“Good, especially the distractions. We’ll be at the Shadow Station by D shift to trade off any spare Syndicate rations from the raid, and since you were such a help on Cantaya, I have a good mind to take you with me.” Lucifer teased the succulent fibres and pastry cubes around each other with practised ease, and a smile crept across Sam’s face. If he could ease into it, show Lucifer he had some sort of ‘inexplicable talent’ for diplomacy… “Lilith, my Admiral, is off to disrupt a little hostage situation over in the Adion System, which should solve some issues, so it’s going to be a busy night for her. One of my best spies on Earth IV has almost hacked through to a Fleet Admiral’s movement plans too – it’s so easy when you’re disguised as the Head Technician.”

Lucifer shrugged and Sam hid his stunned expression as best he could in the food. For one, there was only one Fleet Admiral on Earth IV, and that was his father. Second of all, Lucifer had just done the equivalent of turning the blind side of his ship to Sam; there was trust in this information, trust that Sam wouldn’t try to contact the Syndicate and report it. And he wouldn’t. Not because he was at odds with John (even he wasn’t that spiteful), and not because Lucifer didn’t want him to; it was because everything the Pirate King did, he seemed to do for a reason, and every action so far had been justified by its outcome. Which reminded him…  
“Lucifer, do any of the ships in your fleet use plasma? I was looking around a bit more today, and the absence is a little odd.” Sam kept his Ambassador and Dean-trained pokerface on, answers for if Lucifer asked why he wanted to know prepped and ready to go.  
“No, for the same reason we don’t use incinerators.” Lucifer just took another bite and relaxed a bit more into his seat. “Incinerators are like miniature bombs waiting to go off – with Syndicate ships and the like, we don’t even have to hit the engines to explode a deck – hit an incinerator and that’s a hull breach immediately. Plasma is even better for us – hit a plasma chamber and that ship is finished. Laser weapons are also smaller and lighter – more equipped for our purpose and if you’re clever enough, can be powered by a ship drive.”

Lucifer had no reason to lie to him. But that didn’t make sense. The footage of Volsung, the footage Sam had burned into his brain, had shown the pirate ship in the midst of the town’s destruction. In his gut, he doubted Hermodr would lie about raiding a Volsung town, given their code of honour, and their mutual relief at the prospect of peace…then why had a Scyfling ship plundered a Volsung town before that? It made no sense. It was like someone – Lucifer – had taken a perfect picture and ripped strips off it to create a nonsensical mess. Why had pirates even been there? To pick over the leftovers? But whose leftovers? And why? Lucifer never seemed to do anything without reason, and in any other fleet, Sam would say a rogue ship. But these pirates _worshipped_ Lucifer. He’d bet his booty shorts that none of them would ever dare do something he didn’t command. But…it didn’t make sense. And if that was the case, pirates couldn’t have killed his mother either, because that had been plasma fire too. But Dad had captured an image…

“Penny for your thoughts, Sam?” Lucifer had stopped eating, and was watching him with a curious look.  
The ambassador frowned in confusion. “What’s a penny? Something from your world?”  
Lucifer’s eyebrows shot up, and he gave a derisive huff. “Someone doesn’t know their history. Humans used them like credits a long time ago. A type of coin, British I think.”  
“Wow, I would never have thought the dread Pirate King would be a currency nerd.” Sam smirked and cleaned up the last of his gwinche.  
“Knowledge is power Sam.” Lucifer said, in a tone not unlike the teaching tone he’d used on Cantaya Lambda – well, the translator synthesis of it. A hot flash of Lucifer as a lecturer at the Syndicate University Branch popped into his brain. Lucifer in a dress shirt and pants with a desk just _waiting_ for someone to be bent over it…maybe if he asked the Captain nicely, he wouldn’t just have to imagine. But they’d already fucked and _soul fucked_ today. So Sam tucked in the mental folder that already contained ‘Your Highness’.  
“Yeah, well when the penny apocalypse comes for us, I’ll be sure to call.” He said dryly, but nudged the other man’s raised feet with his hip to take the edge off it. Lucifer just about choked on his last bite of food as he burst out laughing.

That wonderful warm sensation spread up Sam’s chest again, and he opened his mouth for a moment, on the brink of just telling Lucifer everything; that he was an ambassador, that he was John Winchester’s son. The Captain had shown him trust; it was only courtesy that he showed the same in return.  
“Lucifer – “  
“Oh, thank you for offering.” The asshole pirate handed him his empty bowl, and shot Sam’s bitchface a perky smile. Alright. Douchebag could wait till tomorrow then. Lucifer got up and began to strip off his leather pants again.  
“Well, look at that. Dinner and a show.” Sam remarked and graced Lucifer with just a glance.  
“Oh a show alright. You can show these to the cleaning system, loverboy.” For the second time that day, Sam got hit in the face with leather, and not in the kinky way.  
“Alternately, I could show you how well I can strangle a man with a pair of pants?” Sam turned his bitchface up a notch, but Lucifer seemed to be as immune to that as he was to plasma.  
“Kinkier by the day, Sam, kinkier by the day.” The Pirate King called over his shoulder as he and his bare ass went to get clean clothes. At least he could do that for himself, the ambassador’s inner bitch sniped, but then softened up at the thought that he wouldn’t have to sleep on the couch tonight. Sam had once feared that bed, like he’d feared Lucifer, but now anywhere the Captain was felt like home. Something more than lust, more than delusion, more than a man following his master. It was…was comradery, a refuge from the loneliness that had brought them together, it was vivid warmth and happiness. Honestly, that was what Sam was – happy in this strange world of winged Pirate Kings, souls and seemingly a new discovery every day.

***

RED ALERT RED ALERT TO ALL DECKS BATTLE STATIONS BATTLE STATIONS

Oddly enough, the first thought Sam had was ‘they do have a ship wide com system’ before he jerked upright.  
“Bridge.” Lucifer’s clipped tone was all the warning Sam got before a cold hand latched on to his shoulder and the Captain’s chambers, bed and all, vanished. Just like the time Sam had found himself teleported off the bridge, there was no kind of tech whirr or anything; one moment they were in bed, the next moment Sam stumbled against the Captain’s chair as he found himself on his feet. He rubbed his eyes for hazy a moment, disorientated.  
“Crowley, report.” Lucifer’s tone was calm, but even Sam wouldn’t dare waste a second under that gaze.  
“Two Syndicate battlecruisers behind us, sire, two each flank, one in front. They seem to be able to track us when we’re camouflaged, and they have configured their shields for mirror reflection – we can’t fire laser banks on them unless we want to risk being fried by our own beams.” The squat man in a suit rattled off, and sure enough, the display screen showed the frontal shielded Syndicate battlecruiser on an intercept course, mirror shields around it like a fractal diamond. Nothing changed on Lucifer’s face, nor in the set of his shoulders, but Sam could tell, like anyone with any kind of military experience, that this was a nigh hopeless situation.  
“Other bad news too, I’m afraid.” Crowley didn’t wait for Lucifer to ask, just carried on, and Sam wondered what could possible add to this melting pot of ‘oh fuck’. “Bella has been captured and Lilith’s ship was destroyed by the Syndicate in N shift. It was like they knew where she was going.”  
“We will send Hounds for Bella later, and if Lilith’s ship is destroyed, there is little we can do.” If the King felt any kind of grief for his admiral, he hid it well. “Right now we have to deal with our own problems. Ruby, evasive manoeuvres. Demelza, if we get a clear course to light speed, do it.”  
Lucifer stilled for a moment, as if distracted by a thought, then turned to Crowley. “Scan those ships, get me a weakness.”

Sam wracked his brain for anything Dean’s nerding over schematics might tell him. “Lucifer, mirror shielding is a larger drain on power – it will be weak in the parts they think we won’t attack, and to keep it in place their manoeuvring ability will be down by at least 30%.”

The battlecruiser on their right flank swerved into view to lock that side out, serial number and ship name emblazoned across the sleek black side, and Sam felt his gut drop like a stone. The Black Impala. Dean. No, shit –  
“Sire, we are being hailed.” Crowley called, back at his usual seat as external correspondent, and Sam was frozen in place. He should run. He should leave the bridge _right now_.  
“Onscreen.” Lucifer shot back and stood, face in a grim mask that even the most stalwart Syndicate Captain would balk at. But instead of Dean, was a face worn and hard from a lifetime of military service, eyes that had greeted Sam with disappointment for the last eight years: Dad. And yes, now that Sam looked, the ship at their face had the stripes of an Armarda Admiral. But this could work. Sam could use himself as a bargaining chip.

“Surrender or die.” John growled, then his eyes flicked to Sam, and the resolve flickered just a bit. Wow, for a second there, he thought dad would ignore him like he usually did. “Sam? Is that you, son?”  
“Yes sir.” The ambassador ignored the stares of the crew as he usually did, and straightened his back to military attention, but he wasn’t done. “Dad please. You lost mom to them. You don’t have to lose me too. Arrange a trade.”  
Sam knew that in front of his bridge crew, John couldn’t let that plea go unconsidered. He could play the crying coward if it saved The Cage. But before John could answer, a rough hand wrenched Sam’s head back, and a knife sharper than a razor skimmed his throat.  
“You get ten minutes to come up with terms.” Lucifer growled, and Sam hoped to the Universe that the Captain was acting. “Move before then and the next thing you see on this screen will be your son’s head as a new bridge decoration. Out!”

The screen snapped off, and Lucifer moved in front of him, eyes dead pits. “Spy.”  
“What? No, Lucifer – “  
“How did you do that to me, Sam Winchester?” That knife twitched against his throat, and Lucifer’s gaze played over him without emotion. Everything Sam had teased out had been slammed behind those titanium walls again to leave only emptiness and a chilling kind of curiosity behind. “If I wasn’t so angry, I would be impressed. You had me tell you everything they needed to know.”  
“I didn't tell them _anything_!” Sam burst out with exasperation, because although he could see where the Captain might draw his conclusions from, he had no way to contact the Syndicate even if he'd wanted to. “Lucifer, how could I have sent them information? And why?”  
He brought a hand up to catch Lucifer's wrist, the arm that held the knife. As soon as he moved, two crew members behind him started forward, but Sam couldn't take his eyes off the Captain.  
“Why? Yes, tell me why an Armada Admiral's son would want to destroy pirates, hmm?” Lucifer moved a little closer, and the ambassador could feel the other man's forearm tense with the little strength it would take to slice his throat. “And as for how, well, I'm sure I can persuade you to tell me.”  
“Lucifer...” It was stupid, but Sam was almost on the verge of tears. This didn't make any sense, this was impossible, and yet the Captain was willing to turn on him in an instant just for who he was. He wouldn't beg with Lucifer. Not him. Instead he just looked at the Pirate King, _really_ looked, with that warmth in his chest mirrored in his eyes. All of a sudden, the impossibly sharp blade whisked away, replaced by Lucifer's hand, and the bridge crew behind Sam scattered to the side as he was propelled backwards and slammed against a wall.  
“Don't you _dare_ look at me like that.” Lucifer hissed, and Sam's cough was cut off by the tightened grip. Something in his throat made an unnatural pop, and silver specks danced across his vision. “Don't you dare.”  
“Lucifer, wait!” Of all the people to save his life, Crowley hadn't been on the top of Sam's list. The second in command had brought up Sam's profile on the display screen. “He's a First Class Ambassador, sire.”

Sam gulped in air to thud pound of his heart as Lucifer dropped him with a thump and turned toward the display while Crowley kept reading. The profile had his military rank from years back beside his Ambassadorial record and class, but what Sam found odd was that his Syndicate Status (which went from Wanted DOA to Invaluable) was marked Classified. By the look of the hack protocols in the background, the pirates must have been trying to cut through some seriously heavy security around his profile for days, if not longer. Had Lucifer ordered them to? Or had it just been Crowley's wary nature that had led him to check? And why was his Syndicate Profile under so many layers of extraction protection? Was that a normal procedure for First Class Ambassadors? The questions bounced around, meaningless in Sam's oxygen-deprived head.  
“He...he sorted the Jormyjr case.” Crowley's tone seemed almost incredulous. “The one we thought was a lost cause.”  
Lucifer's gaze slid back to him, but his eyes were still guarded. “Files?”  
“Encrypted.” Crowley scowled and tapped away at his MD, but Lucifer just strode over, pressed his palm against it, and the access ports to Sam's files unlocked. As did the Classified rating on his profile, which switched over to 'Expendable'. Sam froze, halfway risen from the floor as a wash of shock locked him in place. Expendable didn't mean the same as 'Target' which was the usual Syndicate Ambassador Status. 'Expendable' was used on profiles of soldiers to be put on the line of a first push. 'Expendable' was used on profiles of prisoners sent to mine unstable asteroids. 'Expendable' was put on profiles of people the Syndicate _wanted_ to get rid of.

“Sam Winchester, First Class Ambassador after the successful arrangement of a peace treatise between Jormyjr Interplanetary Tribes Scyfling and Volsung.” Crowley read out, as Sam half listened in shock. “Current Mission: First Syndicate Agent, Ambassador Jordanial was taken ill on his return to the Kreesal Station. As a First Class Ambassador and a threat to the Syndicate's influence throughout the charted star systems, it is with regret that I must submit... “ Crowley halted for a moment, glanced at him, then continued. “My own son to be procedurally chipped with slave-trade technology encrypted with spyware and passed on to the Jewelled Trading Citadel, a known slaver operation closest to the location that we attacked a pirate ship with an EMP that destroyed their slaves. We ensured that the traders were well-paid to advertise him to masters of all kinds, but we do not have high hopes, as he is human instead of the reputable slave species of Koroka that Jordanial is a member of. We fear Sam's chances of survival are slim, and those of reaching a pirate ship even more so, however myself and all Syndicate correspondents believe that this opportunity is so rare that we must make some sort of attempt to take advantage of it, and no other candidate was in the vicinity. As far as my son's life is concerned, we conceded that it is for the greater good; better to die serving the Syndicate than live fighting us.”  
The bridge went very silent.

Sam was surprised at himself that he didn't cry or roar in anger or proclaim disbelief. Unless you counted his knuckles going white as he gripped the back of the Captain's chair, he was very calm. Perhaps it all just hadn't quite hit him yet.  
“Encrypt that and send it to the Black Impala, frequency 04.” He managed out, then backtracked to supply codenames he knew Dean would recognize as him, because if his chip contained spyware, the Admiral's ship would be able to see and hear everything Sam could see and hear. And he would try to stop Dean seeing that file. Lucifer gave Crowley the nod, but Sam had already moved on. _A threat to the Syndicate's influence._  
“Sam...” Lucifer started forward, but the ambassador didn't even look at him.  
“Pirates don't use plasma weapons.” He knew. He knew who had stolen a Scyfling ship and attacked the Volsung. Who had murdered everyone in those villages and almost started a war that would cripple both sides of the highly advanced Jormjyr into parties easy to subjugate, but it hadn't been pirates. He knew why Jordanial hadn’t stepped up to help him when things had gone south in the peace talks. Sam was supposed to have died there, another name to add the wall of honourable dead. And that wasn't the only thing that clicked into place.

“We reprogrammed the droid, Sam. We arrived too late to stop the destruction, but not too late to have a hope at taking the blame and stopping war.” Lucifer's cool hand seemed to burn against his shoulder, like a piece of reality reaching through a dream. Sam knew he was in shock – Jess or Brady would diagnose him in a second. “We knew it was a long shot that the Syndicate wouldn't delete the footage as soon as it arrived. Gave it up as hopeless in fact. But we never counted on you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sam mentioned how chips could spy on people in chapter 2 - this has been coming for a while ;) And Crowley and his suspicious nature saves the day over Lucifer's confidence. But they're all in a bit of a pickle now! I'd love to hear what you thought of the chapter, and what you think is coming next :D Your theories are the best n.n Any questions are super welcome too! Thank you to everyone who has left comments and kudos already, you guys make my day! Stay awesome buddies (´༎ຶ ͜ʖ ༎ຶ `)♡


	22. Wielding the Weapon of Words

“Sir we're...being sent an encrypted message from the pirate ship.” Charlie frowned at her readout, then tapped it, presumably to make sure she was reading that right. Dean raised his eyebrows from his command chair and shot a look at Castiel; this was the second weird thing to happen around The Cage, the first being that Cas couldn’t see it. No matter how much Dean pointed at the image construction from their Pzyxik scanners, or even drew a picture on his MD, the second in command simply seemed unable to see what Dean and the rest of the crew could. But Cas worked on logic and faith in Dean, so he carried on blind and did what he could.  
The second in command turned from where he stood at his station like usual. With wings like his, Cas didn't take to chairs very well, and hell, Dean could watch him bend over the console all day. He had to be the luckiest battlecruiser Captain to live, honestly, and not just because his boyfriend of a first officer had a great ass; in only the first month of his command, The Cage had come on the radar. Dad had ordered him not to join the chase, probably concerned about Dean's safety. But when Captain Campbell's battlecruiser had been trapped in the Jocasta Nebula in an attempt to shortcut the distance, the only battecruiser in the vicinity had been Dean. Yeah, he'd weep over Campbell's lost glory when he'd seen the Pirate King's ship burned to ash. If only Sam were here to see this. 

Dean clenched his jaw and glanced back at the image construction from their Pzyxik scanners. He didn't care what everyone said, he didn't care how long it had been or how huge space was; he'd find his little brother and bring full wrath of a Syndicate battlecruiser down on the heads of the people who taken him.  
“Could be a system hack.” Cas grated out and strode over to analyse the console with his intense blue gaze. It used to give Dean the creeps a bit, because it almost felt like the alien could see right to his soul, but now it was just kinda hot.  
“Whatever it is, it's addressed to 'Baldface McGee'. That's not in code, and neither is the sign off - “  
“Space Jesus.” Dean's head whipped around as he and Charlie said the same thing. Sam. Sam was in The Cage. Shit, if those pirates had hurt him had _touched_ a hair on his head -  
“Captain, we are being hailed by Admiral Winchester on voice channel two.” Charlie announced before Dean could give the order to decrypt.  
“Accept.”  
“Dean, I forbid you to decrypt the file the pirates sent you.” Dad's tone was clipped – the one he used when he expected no argument.  
“Sir, it's from Sam.” Dean replied, then frowned. How had Dad known they'd received a message? Because John had specified Dean, had said 'you' not 'us'.  
“It's a trick, Dean. No matter what it says, it's a trick. If you decrypt that message, consider yourself resigned.” Dad's tone was final, and the bridge went dead silent as the crew glanced between each other. But the pirates couldn't possibly know the names he and Sam had for each other unless Sam was on that ship and had sent this message. What could be in this file that was worth his job? He didn't know, but he knew Sam was worth his life, never mind his job. So Dean squared his shoulders.  
“Yes sir. We will delete the message at once. Dean out.” The Impala's Captain held up a hand to Charlie as the transmission cut off. “Decrypt that message immediately.”

It only took a moment for the best technician in the Syndicate, and just as the command came to charge the plasma crossfire, the file jumped up on to the wide display screen, a stark gap in the clean, dark interior of the Impala.  
“Oh my God.”  
“Shit!”  
Dean said at the same time as Charlie's exclamation, and other gasps came from around the bridge from those who knew what the term 'Expendable' meant on a Syndicate profile. If this was some pirate trick, they gone to great lengths to hack the Syndicate databases and change it just for this surprise attack which Dean wasn't even meant to be at. No, this was Sam, and there was far more going on between his brother, Dad and the Syndicate than Dean first thought.  
“Charlie, open visual channels to The Cage and The Marine. I think we have some family business to discuss. Our ship is not to fire even if the Field Marshal herself flies her ass here to give the command, am I clear?” Dean glanced around the bridge as 'aye ayes' chimed in response, then turned to scan the hacked files on Sam's profile.  
“Dean.” Cas's deep voice grated from behind him, and the Impala Captain glanced up at his quiet commander. First name usage was reserved for something very special from the rule-obsessed officer. “If Admiral Winchester discovers you have decrypted the file, he will take away your position.”  
Dean glanced back at the sickly yellow word beneath Sam's name, then straightened in his chair.  
“As long as Sam is listed as Expendable, I consider myself resigned. Now open those visual channels on the double.”

 

“Receiving request to join visual communication with The Black Impala and Admiral Winchester's ship.” Crowley tapped his panel, and Sam took a deep breath as Lucifer's hand ran in calm circles between his shoulder blades.  
“Accept immediately.” Lucifer nodded, but there was apprehension on his handsome face. “If this does not succeed, we must prepare for Emergency Procedure: Final.”  
“Let me do the talking, Lucifer.” Sam gritted his teeth and glanced over at the display screen – two panels popped up, kind of like an MD call with two or more people. He already had a case plotted out, evidence from the files ready to support it, and retaliations to Dad's usual arguments arranged in his head.  
“I would not have it any other way.” Lucifer's eyes had opened up to him again, and they spoke of apology. But Sam understood and respected why Lucifer had nearly killed him; hell, he'd expected some sort of negative reaction from the Pirate King, which was why he'd held back the information so long. No, this was on John, and Sam would tear him down. 

Both screens snapped on; one showed the bridge of the Black Impala, straight from the holograms Dean had shown him, except this had his brother in the command seat. The other showed Dad, alone in his briefing room. Of course he wouldn't want his crew to see this conversation.  
“Sam!” Dean was the first one to speak, and leapt up from his chair as though he could reach through the screen and give Sam a hug. A swell of relief and happiness swept through the ambassador, so strong that for a second he forgot that Dad was even there. Then his brother's eyes caught on his bare skin and the marks Lucifer had made on him last night, and his expression turned to fury. “Sam, what have they - “  
“Dean, I'll explain later.” Sam held up his hands, then turned to John. “But you. You explain _now_.”  
“It's a trick.” Dad scowled. “I thought my sons would be more intelligent than to fall for pirate forgeries. And Dean, you are relieved from duty.”  
“A trick? Then tell me where you got your information for this ambush from, hm? How did you know to scan for Pzyxik, how did you know to configure your shields for laser weapons, how did you know our location?” Sam paced in front of Lucifer; Dad could manipulate and deny all he wanted, but Sam had trained for eight years to argue against people like this. “Isn't it an odd coincidence that I disappear and suddenly all this new information about the pirates pops up? You planted this chip in my head. You can see and hear _everything_ that I do.”

Sam didn't have time to be embarrassed over what he knew his father and the technicians that watched his feed would have seen over the past few days especially. There were more important things than pride right now.  
“Dad, Sam's right.” Dean's jaw was set in a hard line, and Sam couldn't help feel a little sorry for him. His brother had always looked up to Dad as much as he had Mom, had always tried to make him proud and be a good son, no matter how bad things got. On the converse, Dean had always taken care of Sam, had watched his back, had put his little brother before anything, and now he had to choose between them.  
“Dean - “  
“You sold me to slavers, Dad. You sold your _son_ to be enslaved, killed, raped, chopped up for meat, just for one small chance that you would win your war against the pirates.” Sam spat out, and Dean's eyes hardened with anger as he looked across at the screen that Dad was on.  
“Are you forgetting that these are the pirates that killed your mother? Both of you should put this argument aside to destroy them. We can sort this out later.” Dad was predictable as ever, but in this instance he'd unwittingly thrown himself right into Sam's hands. Before Dean could protest or answer, the ambassador cut in.  
“Ah yes, the pirates who killed our mother.” Sam crossed his arms as he paced. “With plasma fire, correct Dean?”  
“Yeah, we were both there.” His brother's eyebrows dipped in confusion, but that was fair. It had taken Sam a while to put the pieces together, and even though he didn't want to believe it, he was so certain. Dead certain.  
“Pirates don't use plasma weapons, they use lasers.”  
“Who told you that? Lucifer? The Pirate King who would do anything to save his hide?” John snapped, but even with four gunships pointed at Sam, Dad had no power over him now.

“Dean, check the Syndicate logs that record the destruction of a pirate ship in the Adion system. They had no plasma weapons either, nor does The Cage, nor does any pirate ship!” Sam insisted over John's command to Dean not to look up the ambush logs, but Castiel pulled them up on display in the background anyway, and for a second, Sam wondered whether Castiel could see them onscreen; whenever he looked at them, his line of vision went amiss or he simply seemed to squint in confusion. The ambassador didn't notice how Lucifer zeroed in on the commander with an intense kind of fascination.  
“Furthermore, the only ship with a high enough grade to support plasma weaponry around Uralias Omicron at the time was your ship, Dad. And thus I conclude that to regain your sons and to stop us becoming rebels like mom, who moved to Uralias Omicron to keep us away from the corruption of the Syndicate and like the freedom fighters you call pirates, you ordered her death.”Sam finished, and it was like the words curdled in his mouth to leave a bitter taste. Maybe it had taken him such a long time to figure out because he didn’t want to believe that John had murdered Mom and taken them to serve like toys in his plans.  
“How _dare_ you!” John roared and slammed the table in front of him. Dean flinched, but Sam kept a malicious, cold stare on his father.  
“I dare because it's true – that Dean and I have been living in the service of a lie you fabricated. Just like it's true that the Syndicate attacked Volsung in a stolen Scyfling ship to start war and make the Jormyjr easy to conquer. Just like it's true that the Syndicate send faulty weapons to planets like Pjantra to ensure they'll need to buy replacements and thus fund the Syndicate further, just like on Cantaya Lambda where the indigenous people were tricked into selling their land and materials so the Syndicate could benefit.” Sam broke only for breath as John fumed in one screen and Dean sat down again, a tight expression on his face as he scanned Castiel's results on the commander's MD. “Anyone who looks hard enough can find the rotten core that _you_ feed, Dad, that is if you don't get rid of them first. But I know one thing. I will have no part in your corruption anymore.” 

Sam set his shoulders, took a steadying breath, then spun around. Before Lucifer could stop him, he yanked the Captain's wicked-sharp knife from his belt, slid it behind his ear and sliced backward. The chip didn't even have time to recognize it was compromised; the device, a hunk of Sam's flesh and a white shard that was probably part of his skull hit the floor with a wet _smat_ before the ambassador even felt the cut. All of a sudden, black bars chopped up his vision, but before he could go fully blind, Lucifer's hand caught his arm.  
“Rash idiot.” The Captain murmured only loud enough for Sam to hear, then something warm and clean spread up from the touch, and the world solidified again. The burn of the gash subsided, but even if he had gone blind, it would have been worth it. That thing was gone. The ambassador glared up at John's screen as leftover blood ran in rivets down his bare skin, then bent to pick up the red-stained chip.  
“Lucifer, I'm sure you know what to do with the information on this.” He handed the chip to Lucifer, who nodded with a wicked smile at John rather than him.  
“Oh I know exactly what to do, thank you Sammy.”  
  
“Sam, this is your last warning. Make the pirates surrender or die.” John ordered, and Sam supposed they wanted some of these new occupant alien specimen or Lucifer himself to study. But the ambassador suddenly remembered The Cage's stupid Emergency Procedure, and a little smile tugged at his lip. Keep calm and have faith in Lucifer it said. And after all Sam had seen and felt, he finally saw where it was coming from.  
“Dad - “ Dean's screen was suddenly cut off, as Sam presumed the Admiral's technicians had completed the channel hack.  
“If you want to destroy the pirates, you'll have to kill me too Dad, just like you killed mom.” He crossed his arms and held his father's glare.  
“So be it.” John snapped, then the visual channel cut off.

“Sire, the Black Impala has dropped its mirror shielding and is moving out of position.” Demelza announced, and sure enough, the nose of Dean's ship dove in front of The Cage just as the Admiral's ship fired. The plasma was absorbed by the standard deflector shields that Dean had switched to, but Sam knew it couldn't take the full arsenal of four other battlecruisers.  
“Sire, we have a clear path to light speed.” The navigator called, but Lucifer shook his head as a blast rocked their ship from the battlecruiser on the left.  
“This is beyond just us now. We have the information needed to bring down the Syndicate and now is not the time to run. Now is the time for a show of strength. We have invaluable Syndicate allies and we cannot let their ship be destroyed or those aboard be imprisoned.” The Captain rose, strode over to the navigator and pressed his palm against her console. “Emergency Procedure: Final. When executed, you will follow this algorithm for co-ordinates and wait for my return. Crowley, look after my ship. Sam, you're with me.”

“What’s Emergency Procedure: Final?” Sam caught Lucifer’s arm as they left the bridge. He didn’t like the sound of anything with the word ‘final’ in it, especially when Lucifer was concerned.  
“You’ve seen the outside of The Cage, Sam, the symbols?” Lucifer strode along the corridor at a brisk walk as another blast rumbled across the ship’s shields. Thank goodness he hadn’t asked about those, or they’d be dead already. In the end, his curiosity had been the Syndicate’s biggest weapon.  
“Yes.” Sam nodded – he’d seen the odd glyphs that covered every inch of The Cage’s exterior on the way back from destroying Pjantra’s guns. They matched the ones on Lucifer’s clothes in style at least.  
“They stop the rest of my species from finding me, especially if I use a lot of power.” Lucifer stopped outside and airlock, face a grim mask. “No matter what they scan for, no matter what they do, when I am inside The Cage, they cannot see, hear or feel me or my crew. On Cantaya I had a close call when I saved your life, but either I didn’t use quite enough power to attract them or the sigils on my clothes protected me.”  
“You’re going to give yourself over to them for us?” Sam’s heart dropped into his gut; he didn’t know the entire situation, but he knew Lucifer’s species had imprisoned him before and that the Captain went to great lengths to avoid them. Lucifer pressed the airlock door release pad, then turned back to him as resonant booms echoed through The Cage.  
“Not if I can help it Sammy.” The older blonde pursed his lips in amusement as he smoothed a piece of hair behind Sam’s ear. “Now get back to the bridge. This isn’t a show you’ll want to miss.”

Sam’s chest lurched, and he just grabbed Lucifer’s head and pulled him into a short, breathless kiss. He couldn’t say goodbye. It would choke in his throat and stream from his eyes and hurt too much to bear.  
“Pray to me.” And with that, the Pirate King stepped into the airlock and the doors hissed shut behind him. All of a sudden Sam realized that Lucifer had just walked into an airlock without a suit or helmet or…  
_Bridge, Sam. See you on the other side._ Lucifer’s voice chuckled in his head somehow, and Sam stared in horror as the Captain was jettisoned into space.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back with another cliffhanger! Fun fun fun :P So that's everything that happened with John and Sam - if you have any question or comments or more theories\predictions about what is going to happen, I'd love to hear them! n.n And thank you so much for all your previous kudos and comments, they always make my day; it's so awesome to know what you guys think of my story ^.^ That's all for now, so I hope you enjoyed the chapter. Have a good day and stay awesome my buddies! (♡ ᐛ )人( ᐛ ♡)
> 
> If you'd like to support me, you can [check out my novel](https://www.kobo.com/nz/en/ebook/tea-in-the-outback) or [donate to help me keep writing!](https://www.paypal.com/cgi-bin/webscr?cmd=_s-xclick&hosted_button_id=TT3Q6W95QFSM2) ^.^


	23. Emergency Procedure: Final

Sam sprinted; he sprinted like he had laser fire at his heels until he burst back on to the bridge.  
“Shields at 20%, we have two more hits in us!” An engineer called from their station, just as another blast sent Sam staggering sideways against the doorframe. “10%!”  
“Thank you genius!” Crowley barked from the command chair, then turned to Sam. “Lucifer?”  
“Gone. Out…there.” Sam flicked a hand toward the carnage in the display screen: it appeared one of the battlecruisers hadn’t been fast enough to switch from mirror shielding, and had taken a full plasma blast from the Black Impala to breach the hull – Dean obviously hadn’t been aiming to destroy it, just incapacitate it.  
“Good. Demelza, Ruby, prepare for light speed.” Crowley barked at the navigator and pilot, as the latter turned them to dodge another plasma shot, but there was a judder as it scraped The Cage’s hull. The replacement officer in Crowley’s seat called out shipwide damage reports, but it seemed they’d avoided a breach on the core.  
“What about – “ Sam broke off as a familiar shock of white plumage flashed open in the dead of space. It seemed wrong – something so biological and earthly out there among the stars, in an environment of dead nothingness that feathers and muscle should be unable to function in. 

As Sam and the crew who weren’t busy dodging plasma and returning fire watched, both Lucifer and his wings glowed brighter and brighter like an overloaded engine about to explode. A high, tinnitus ring clipped Sam’s hearing as the man Lucifer appeared to be was consumed by the light – it spread out from him and his wings, the core too intense to look at as it grew in a white sphere. The ambassador clapped his hands over his ears as the shrill sound pierced his head, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from this; what Lucifer truly was, what he’d seen during their union now bared for all to witness. That sensation pulled at his chest again, the one which had brought him to tears at the sight of Lucifer’s wings, and his knees buckled before he could stop them. This wasn’t awe. This was reverence. This was something beyond man and their metal boxes in a vast, unending Universe, and even though his eyes burned from the sight, Sam couldn’t tear himself away. It was lucky that Crowley roared the command to hit light speed, else he might have watched the ethereal beauty of this creature, this living star until his eyes burned from his skull.

 

“What the hell – Cas, readings!” Dean didn’t know if The Cage had thrown out a bomb or it’s light speed core or what the hell this was, but he could _hear_ it. He knew for a fact that in this segment of space there were no molecules or interstellar gases and dusts for sound to carry on, and even if there were, the human ear should not be capable of hearing it. Not only that, but it twisted his gut in a primeval way, made him gasp for breath from the sheer sensation of whatever this was. It only took half a glance to see that half his bridge crew had collapsed, or held their ears and bloody noses. The Impala’s Captain turned to his second in command, but stopped in shock at the expression on his usually-calm officer’s face. Castiel’s eyes had flown wide, mouth half open in horror – he hadn’t even covered his ears like half the crew, was just transfixed by the growing ball of light between their ship and the pirate one. The light painted his face bone-white, and the commander’s bright blue eyes shone with the sight.

“It’s him.” Was all Cas managed out, deep voice hoarse, and Dean scrambled up from the command chair, then ducked, hands over his ears as that high pitched sound threatened to bust his eardrums. In front of them, the battlecruiser Mnshindi’s hull began to crumble as though it were made of sand.  
“Who Cas?” Dean yelled over the cries and demands for orders from his bridge crew and coms.  
“He who was cast out, the rebellious snake, the tempter and destroyer.” Cas murmured, as if in a dream, as if battlecruisers weren’t crumbling around them, and officers hadn’t started bleeding out the eyes and ears from this thing.  
“Well if you can – “ Dean stopped mid-shout as Cas’s head whipped around like a dog who’d heard a dog whistle, and his commander cried words in a language that Dean didn’t understand. Before he could stop the winged man, Castiel ran forward to the flight control panels at the front, and without warning, Dean was thrown off his feet as they lurched into light speed.

_I watched. To the right I watched The Mnshindi fall – the great and terrible light consumed it like a swarm of insects might reduce a crop or carcass to dust. I watched as The Dauntless and Jupiter II were burned up in its power, a power unimaginable of which I have never seen the like. If I were a religious man, I would have said a god or an avenging angel had come down upon us to punish us. I have no time to theorize or explain. The readings are off the charts, or were until the instruments broke. My second in command, Commander Pastor’s eyes burned out as he watched this thing, unable to look away. The rest of my crew appear dead or unconscious, eyes melted, eardrums burst and brains full of the blood that poured from their noses. I do not understand how I am alive. Needless to say, the Pirate King has escaped and my sons have left me to die. I do not know where this weapon came from, however it’s function is honest – annihilation of ships, of the Syndicate, of the human race, I do not know its limits._  
_The Captain must go down with his ship – there is little choice here anyway. As I watch, the hull is breaking off into fragments, like dry clay about to crumble into nothing. The display screen is filtering out into space in hundreds of diamond particles. A beautiful thing to watch before I die. I only wish I had more to hear than the gurgle of blood from my dead friends, their silence, the silence of three thousand deceased officers. It is so lonely. I am alone here, in this black well of space, and I shall die alone. My family have deserted me. This shall be the last log of John Winchester, Third Armada Admiral to the Syndicate._

_The light is so close. I dare not look at it, lest my eyes melt. The clear screen is open to space now, yet I have not been sucked out into the void. I do not understand how I breathe, yet I do. The floor is breaking beneath me, and I can feel this light in my bones as it approaches. Something deep, something ancient and horrific has come for us and –  
**THE DAY OF JUDGEMENT IS UPON YOU JOHN WINCHESTER. HOW SHALL YOU PLEAD?**_

Weeks later, the only thing Syndicate search droids and specialists could find of the five battlecruisers and over fifteen thousand crew they had sent to bring down the Pirate King was The Marine’s black box with John Winchester’s final report.

***

Sam didn’t leave the bridge until N shift. Even with Lucifer gone, nobody harassed him; they simply worked around him as he watched the display screen. The only pattern Lucifer’s algorithm seemed to have was a penchant to take them near natural celestial phenomena that would conceal any disturbance trails the ship might leave behind in its wake, and take them out further and further into uncharted space. Well, the Syndicate’s uncharted space.  
Apparently The Cage and the other pirate ships in the inner and mid ranges had fallen back on a simple Darear cloaking device to avoid being picked up by Pzyxik detection units, but Sam had no idea what Dean would do. He had faith that Lucifer had saved his brother, but after that, both of them had to look out for themselves.

Sam perched on the edge of Lucifer’s bed, still unmade from where they’d slept in it last night and ran his hands across his face. No, Dean was the most brilliant Captain for decades with a dedicated second in command and good friends. Even if his crew mutinied, he’d be able to handle it. And Lucifer? Lucifer would be ok because Lucifer was always ok, Sam told himself. He was always ok in their world anyway. But on his own plane? If the rest of his species were as strong as him, if they captured him… Sam didn’t know what he would do. What he _could_ do. He doubted his sexy man body would work as a persuasion tactic on all of them even if he knew how to find them.  
Sam heaved a sigh to himself, and his composure deflated with it as his thoughts drifted to Dad. He didn’t know how to feel about that to be honest. Whether he’d lived or died…Sam suspected Lucifer had killed him, for the greater good and all that, but the ambassador kind of wished he hadn’t. John was family business, and Sam would have liked to see him….what for? One last argument? One last reminder their entire lives since Uralias Omicron had been a lie? The ambassador sighed to himself, ran a hand through his hair and glanced over at the live feed of the bridge display screen he’d set up. As he lost himself in the stars and whorls of distant ion formations, he sank back into his last memory with Lucifer. The warmth of his lips, the amusement in his eyes, his douchebag cocksure way of doing everything, even telling Sam to pray to him like he was some sort of…

 _“Lucifer.”_ Sam let the word drop from his lips in a quiet breath, and ran his fingers over his mouth after he said it. No, no, that wasn’t possible. But Sam realized it wasn’t the first time he’d compared Lucifer to the mythological being. On Cantaya he’d turned the people away from a civilizing force that would control them, but make life easy for them, like the Garden of Eden story. But that was a _story_. Evolution was the undeniable science of the matter although…if aliens, hugely powerful aliens had visited primitive humans, it would be almost certain they would be worshipped. That’s why the Syndicate had planet classes and had to be so careful concerning them – one accidental visit to a Development Class 1 planet and they could disrupt the belief system, and therefore the whole society. But did that mean Lucifer was the Devil? Sam wasn’t a religious man – in this day and age amongst humans, it was more tradition preservation than actual honest faith that spiritual beings answered prayers – but as an Ambassador, it was key to know a great plenty about cultures and religions. He’d read the Bible, the Quran, both ancient and modern pagan rituals, and a collection of the more common alien worship traditions as well. The Bible at least painted mythological Lucifer as evil… although if his species hated him, and if he did dislike humans like the Lucifer Sam knew had let on back on Cantaya Lambda, then the depiction would make sense. Like history written by the victors, Sam doubted that Lucifer would have had a chance to tell his story… 

But really? _Really?_ All the clues were there: the power, the attitude, the fact that Lucifer had been imprisoned and was running from…other angels? Sam shook his head in disbelief. The two seemed so separate; the man who teased him, slept and ate, was too lazy to do menial chores versus the ages-old archetype of evil. He needed proof, some form of confirmation outside his own viewpoint. The ambassador suddenly stood and jogged toward the door – there was possibly one person who could confirm his theories.

“Crowley?” Sam pushed the buzzer on the Second in Command’s door, heart loud in anticipation. If this was true, revelations about religions, society and mythology would be insane.  
“If you’re offering your services, Naked Moose, I would rather live.” Crowley drawled out, and Sam rolled his eyes.  
“Don’t flatter yourself, I just want to talk.”  
There was an audible sigh, and the triangle-segmented doors hushed open to reveal a large room. The communications officer’s quarters couldn’t be less like Lucifer’s; lush, rich and full of antiques like crystal tumblers, gold-framed paintings and marble busts, presumably magnetized to the surfaces they were presented on to survive the haphazard pirate ship life. To the left, a door was closed into what might be a bedroom, but the Second in Command was reclined in a far corner by his desk, with a glass of some kind of dark alcohol on a rich brown leather chair (because there totally wasn’t enough leather or leather look on this ship).

“What?” Crowley never treated him with contempt, per se, but was always a little brusque. The ambassador had a feeling that the second in command was only gracious with him because Lucifer liked him so much. Whereas Abaddon had pride in biblical portions, Sam knew Crowley knew which asses to kiss when and which backs to stab when, and that made him even more dangerous than the red headed bitch.  
“Lucifer is an archangel, isn’t he. _The_ archangel from Christian mythology.” Sam put his statement out there right away – even the slippery communications officer would find it a challenge to worm his way around a straight answer. Crowley considered him for a moment over his glass of dark liquor, and narrowed his eyes.  
“What did the Captain tell you?”  
“He is rebellious, estranged from his own kind, he was imprisoned by them, like – like in Hell.” Sam mapped his words out with his hands as he talked and new realizations hit him. “He made you, his crew, like the mythological being made demons. The sensation around him when he exerts more power is awe, the kind of awe the Bible talks about in the presence of angels or God, and the Cantayals said he was old, maybe hundreds or thousands – “  
“Whatever he is, he’s billions of years old. I’m sure he won’t mind me telling you that.” Crowley took a sip from his whiskey, and Sam stopped, halfway through a word, mouth open.

 _“What?”_ Sam realized he was about to catch flies and closed his mouth again. Lucifer could be that old – older than planets, even suns!  
“Have you finished blowing your own mind, or can I have my free time back?” Crowley sighed, and if Lucifer had truly created these occupant aliens, they must have inherited some of his sass.  
“So Lucifer is the archangel who fell.” Sam swallowed and looked at the squat, black-haired officer, who leaned forward just a little bit.  
“I think that’s enough for today, Sam.” The well-groomed officer swallowed, and glanced at him with nervous eyes. Sam supposed Lucifer had sworn Crowley into secrecy, and even his expert ambassadorial talent couldn’t tease disobedience to the Captain from any of the crew.  
But that was confirmation in itself. Lucifer was the creature from myth and…wow, ok, Sam had slept with the Devil. But that meant…that ambassador turned and jogged out of the room. He ignored Crowley’s grouchy ‘Well thanks to you too’, raced back into the Captain’s quarters and did something he’d never done in his life. Sam dropped to his knees beside the bed and prayed.  
“Lucifer…Morningstar. I pray that you are safe and that you find your way back to me. I love you, and I will always be here for you, I will always pray to you until we meet again. Even if you can’t reply, I hope my prayers are a comfort. Amen.”  
Before he had even finished the prayer, a tear slid down his cheek and his throat choked up little noises into the emptiness of the room.

***

Every day for three months, Sam prayed. The prayers got longer and longer, just like the shifts seemed to stretch on forever. He’d tell Lucifer about where they were, about what he’d done that day, about missing his sass, and how he still woke up to make Lucifer breakfast before Sam realized he was gone. Sometimes he prayed about how he wanted Lucifer’s lips, his body, kept words falling from his lips as he stroked himself to climax and hoped that wherever the Captain was, that it kept him entertained. Sam told him how much he had learned about The Cage, about the weapon systems, the modified cloaking device the science crew had configured, how he studied Lucifer’s codes, viruses and firewalls and had learned so much. Even though Lucifer might not be able to help, Sam prayed Dean was safe; they couldn’t risk communication between ships with the Syndicate on such high alert, not that Sam knew where the Impala was anyway. 

The pirates knew they had to go deep while Lucifer was in the wind, and that was an issue with the pirate system, Sam believed. Cut off the head, and the body was in trouble. But Sam knew the Syndicate. He knew their patterns, their patrols, their rules, their ships, and he wasted no time in learning the arsenal of the pirates as well. Over the three months, he found himself giving input on the bridge, sitting in on Crowley’s briefs, receiving looks of respect rather than lewd desire. It helped that he was the best hacker on the ship; where Lucifer used to data mine, now it more than often fell to him to contact the spies and find out where the Syndicate would be next and give orders to the rest of the fleet on that information. He hadn’t been able to find anything about Dean or the Impala in Syndicate news (which was probably a blessing) and it seemed Dad’s ship and all the others in the pursuit of them had just vanished only Lucifer knew where, Sam guessed.

In the pirate network, Lucifer’s handiwork with footage from Sam’s spyware could be seen across the Syndicate population. It had been ‘leaked’ by one of the Syndicate’s top technicians – or rather one of Lucifer’s spies in her body – and gone viral across every kind of network; although some tried to quash it as a hoax or a conspiracy theory, it didn’t stop protests across hundreds of planets, many of which had been uneasy with the Syndicate for much longer than Sam had anticipated under John's blanket of lies. Private contractors were set up by the well-intentioned rich to patrol space around vulnerable planets in ‘ The Cantaya Movement’ as it came to be called. The minor pirate fleets of mixed aliens (rather than just Lucifer’s occupant aliens) grew and coined the term rebels now rather than pirates. People seemed to have found pictures of Sam – one of him in a white robe looking particularly Space Jesus-y was a favourite – and it seemed that all of a sudden, he’d become the face of this movement: on protest signs, banners, shirts, and the triple dove insignia had become _the_ symbol the rebels rallied behind. Dean and Lucifer were among the icons as well, however Sam did notice that the Captain hadn’t allowed anything that showed his wings into the media (and he thankfully edited out the more intimate moments, including the Sam First Person Sex Experience). 

But the first time Sam saw news footage of marches in the name of his cause, and the triple dove insignia spray painted on the wall of the Syndicate Army Base, he almost broke down with awe. So many people were behind this, so many people backed their cause and wanted _change_. People were _willing to die_ to stop this corruption. Now Sam knew why Lucifer had stood and fought the battlecruisers rather than run. This had been bigger than them, and Lucifer, in his vast knowledge, his instincts or his experience of human society from the dawn of time had known they’d found the rice grain to tip the scale. They were a part of history now. But it wasn’t just what Sam had become to the world of rebels and protests far, far away. It was what he’d become among the pirates too, and it wasn’t until they stopped to obtain Loquiavium, to fix the damaged hull that Sam realized exactly what that was.

It had taken three months to find a planet equipped for their needs because Loquiavium was so rare the Sam hadn’t even heard of it before Crowley’s briefings. Or perhaps it was just another undiscovered substance that Lucifer had learned the qualities of before the Syndicate. But that, paired with the fact that they still had to follow Lucifer’s algorithm, left them with damage across some of the segment hulls for too long, which both Crowley and Sam worried might break the seals that kept Lucifer’s kind - angels, Sam guessed – away. The less time they spent with that risk at large, the better. If the angels were all as powerful as Lucifer, the parts of The Cage that they could see wouldn’t stand a chance. The planet Owantu had been a gift – scans said it was rich in Loquaivium, the inhabitants were not friendly with the Syndicate, but neither were they in conflict with them, and it was near the sun the algorithm had directed them toward to keep their trail obscure. Between the persuasive tongues of Crowley and himself, The Cage had brokered a deal with the Owatulians. Crowley had gone down to collect with golems and droids; the acting Captain was adamant to ensure the product was up to the standard of their bargain, even though both he and Sam knew they didn’t have all that much choice. Crowley had left Ruby in command with Sam at communications in case the Owantulians at the front desk decided this was more trouble than it was worth and needed another round of convincing.

“How’s the situation going, Crowley?” Sam called in to the Communications Officer’s MD from the channel feed, although he could have done it from his own MD; after a month of being an active member of the crew, Ruby had dug up a spare MD from somewhere and helped him hook it up to the network. The coxswain and Crowley were the only two that really interacted with him on anything more than business, probably to do with the fact that the crew still seemed to regard him as Lucifer’s; the mate of their god. If there was any kind of resentment among the crew of his ever-growing presence among the command team though, they hid it well (needless to say, Abaddon avoided him altogether), although Sam kind of doubted there was much. Despite all their merits, the stormclouds, as Lucifer called them, seemed to have few leadership qualities among them. There seemed to be ‘special’ characters among them, individuals who Lucifer had created first. They served as command teams on other pirate ships. But even Ruby never seemed comfortable when given temporary captaincy and most of the crew needed someone to take orders from – the ambassador had been shocked the first time around a month ago when he’d called out an order on instinct and one of the crew just snapped to it. Although it seemed like a fatal flaw amongst their species, Sam supposed it made them much easier for Lucifer to control.

“Despite the lack of a certain moose who could have put his back into it, we’re almost ready to return.” Crowley replied mildly.  
“If I could be everywhere at once, Crowley, I’d put you out of a job.” Sam smirked into air as the exchange reminded him a little of Lucifer; Crowley wasn’t quite as fun, nor did the acting Captain seem to want to risk life and limb by being flirtatious with his sass, but at least Sam wouldn’t be rusty when Lucifer returned.  
“It must be nice in that fantasy world you live in, Sam. I’ll contact you when we are leaving.” Crowley paged out, just as Demelza magnified a ship on their visual screen. Sam gave a slightly indignant huff at the notion that Crowley _might_ have won that one, and checked out the vessel.  
“Arcadian Cargo ship, not much to worry about.” Ruby shrugged to the navigator, but it wasn’t the ship’s appearance that made Sam look closer. There was…something familiar about its movement pattern that itched away in his head. The ambassador rose from his post, and went to his usual station, just behind the Captain’s chair.  
“It’s a bit far out for Arcadians, isn’t it?” He gestured at Demelza to hold off returning to the main screen for a moment. Sam _knew_ that flight pattern…where had he seen it before?  
“Arcadians sometimes go on longer trawls to trade for higher prices.” Ruby looked up at him from the command chair with a frown. “It’s not too unusual.”

The cargo vessel did a square turn toward them, then sank slightly in space, a manoeuvre that snapped Sam’s vague pattern into place. Before he could even think ‘shit’, he was at the communication post.  
“Crowley, do not, I repeat _do not_ leave Owantu, we have Syndicate company.” Sam ordered; he knew that pattern because he and Dean had watched each other try and perfect the Syndicate scout scan manoeuvres years back when they were Privates.  
“Sam what – “  
“Just believe me!” Sam snapped back at the acting Captain, then turned to Ruby. “We need to move The Cage – if they have detected our cloak, they will take a path around us to try and complete the scan to figure out what we are. If they do that, we’ll have a battlecruiser on our tail.”  
“Lieutenant Kaley, take us to 8 mark 40, 1/8th sub light. Put the ship on Red Alert, battle stations.” Ruby commanded to the current coxswain, and The Cage shifted to the side of the path of the stolen cargo vessel. Sam watched, kept his breath coming steady as they waited for the Syndicate scout to carry on and continue its scans or give away that it had found them. Only a pilot like him, who’d gone over the motions again and again and again would be able to tell the difference, and his stomach dropped as the Arcadian vessel altered its course in a way he recognized. Shit. They had two options: 1: Leave Crowley to look after himself at the mercy of the Syndicate and risk being found and crushed by Lucifer’s kind without the Loquavium repairs. 2: Stay and oppose a battlecruiser. Sam knew which he was more afraid of; battlecruisers could be destroyed. Mythological, all-powerful beings? That was over his head. Over all of their heads.  
“They know we’re here!” Sam barked and turned to Ruby. “Destroy that ship immediately.”  
If the scout couldn’t get a transmission back to a battlecruiser, it would hopefully buy them enough time to get out of there. True, when the scout missed it’s check-in, they’d get company, but Sam hoped they were near the beginning of their report cycle.

Ruby didn’t even need to give the order; Demelza and the laser crew fired the moment Sam spoke, and turned the scout ship to char – that was the good thing about lasers: plasma weapons blasted holes, and true, could disintegrate smaller targets. But condensed laser fire could melt a ship if used correctly, and Lucifer’s crew were nothing if not efficient. The Cage sent out a radiation pulse, as protocol, to disguise traces of wreckage or weapon residue.  
“Two battlecruisers coming out of light speed, Section 5, 7 mark 59!” Ensign Reme called out from the spatial readout station, and Sam’s heart dropped to his gut as Ruby swore. Shit, they must have had an alert trigger for when a scout was destroyed. Idiot! But he didn’t have time to panic; the Syndicate could apparently detect Darear shielding, so inaction would make them sitting ducks.  
“Ruby, I need you at helm. Ensign Kravel, report the situation to Crowley, keep the cloak up, it will stall their weapon lock-on.” Sam rattled off and recalled a manoeuvre from Advanced Reading from the Syndicate Piloting course. True it had been performed by Captain Ylsingon, the Captain who seemed to have luck and possible insanity in a hectic balance, but it might be crazy enough for the battlecruiser on their tail to fall for it. Sometimes being a nerd, _Dean_ , came in handy. Sam hoped by the luck he seemed to live by that it would be enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another cliffhanger! Man, I swear I don't mean to write this many. But lot happened in that chapter - maybe you have a few questions or theories? I would love to hear them :D A couple of you were theorizing on whether Lucifer was an angel or an alien, and I hope this chapter answered that (he's both) ;) So good job on that! n.n But thank you so much for your comments - it's so wonderful to hear what you think of my fic and always makes me so excited to update or even just get out of bed in the morning lol. So thank you for all your comments and kudos, y'all are amazing n.n Stay awesome buddies! ଘ(੭ ᐛ )━☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ
> 
> If you'd like to support me, you can [check out my novel](https://www.kobo.com/nz/en/ebook/tea-in-the-outback) or [leave me a tip!](https://www.paypal.com/cgi-bin/webscr?cmd=_s-xclick&hosted_button_id=TT3Q6W95QFSM2) ^.^


	24. Survival of the Smartest

The ambassador didn’t even have time to think about how the crew followed his instructions like a well-oiled machine, or how Ruby gave up her command of the Pirate Fleet’s flagship for him.  
“One battlecruiser is headed toward us, the other for the planet.” Ensign Reme reported, and Sam knew they were on a time limit to save the business team and their cargo on the Owantu.  
“Ruby, take us as close to that sun as the ship can handle and put the ship on red alert.” There was hope that whichever Captain or Admiral commanded the battlecruisers wouldn’t recognize this insane strategy, but Sam believed that the Syndicate didn’t know which pirate ship they had on their hands: they didn’t know they were dealing with a Winchester.   
“Sir, they are dispatching CE Assaulter Fighters from the advancing battlecruiser, the second battlecruiser has plotted a course for planetary orbit.” The Ensign called out readings. “Engage segments?”  
“Negative, Ensign, do not engage segments – they will try to split our forces up and destroy us. Continue course for Sol Organa, sub-light 9.” Sam slid into the command chair – he’d heard Dean’s proud reports on how hostile aliens had fell for that tactic so often; the CEs, the Close Engagement Assaulter Fighters would act like bees: irritate and annoy parts of a fleet, until the opposition broke their formation to deal with them, giving an opening for the battlecruisers to plough in and decimate the main ships. Sam would defenestrate himself into space from shame if he fell for that. 

As the usual gratuitous pirate leather of the seat pressed against his bare skin, the moment hit him like frozen air gushing into a warm cabin. It had only been months ago when he’d walked onto the bridge for the first time as a slave, with utter hatred and contempt for the charismatic Captain draped like a jungle cat across where he sat now.   
“Battlecruiser firing!” Ensign Reme’s call snapped him back to the moment, but Sam yelled to hold the course before Ruby could take evasive action. They were still well out of range of battlecruiser plasma guns; the opposing Captain was trying to rattle them into switching the power from their camouflage into deflector shields or lose momentum through manoeuvres. Sam knew for a fact that the smaller, faster CEs could catch them in a few minutes, less if they deviated from a straight course. The battlecruiser didn’t want to get too close without weapon locks and with CE’s engaged, so they didn’t have anything to fear from it yet. The Syndicate knew very well that pirate ships were far better equipped for close combat of large ships, so the battlecruiser’s Captain’s choice to send in CEs was a good one; Sam just hoped the other Captain wasn’t _too_ clever.  
“We just need to outrun the CEs and Syndicate fire until we make it to the sun.” As an ambassador, Sam knew how to keep a calm tone under pressure, and the steadiness that could bring to a tense situation. This was the pirates’ first major conflict without Lucifer at the helm, and he didn’t want them to panic.

“Uh, sir, Crowley is on voice communications.” Ensign Kravel seemed unsure how to address Sam, but the ambassador nodded, shoulders tense with anticipation. If Crowley gave him a conservative order, he would have to disobey, and the last thing Sam wanted was dissention in the ranks, or worse, faction formation.   
“Put him on.” Sam watched the path of the battlecruiser not on their tail – Demelza had split the screen to view what was both behind them and in front. One of them showed an 8 minute countdown before that battlecruiser hit planetary orbit and sent down CEs to deal with Crowley.  
“Sam, what the bloody hell are you doing?” Crowley blustered down the line. “There are two damn _battlecruisers_ here – “  
“Crowley, I don’t know whether this channel is secure, but believe me when I tell you this: I have a plan, and I won’t desert you.” Sam kept his well-trained voice level, but his own cautions gave him an idea. He pulled up his MD, and opened the code access port for any ship channels within 100,000 kilometres. “Do you trust me?”  
“Well I have no choice but to trust you, do I? The Owantulians won’t side with either of us.” Crowley huffed, and Sam wondered what shade in the face (cherry blossom through to tomato) the Commander was at currently. But Crowley really had little to worry about; Sam couldn’t flee at lightspeed without the Loquavium and risk the wrath of Lucifer’s pursuers. “But if The Cage is damaged in _any way_ I’m leaving you to rot with these imbeciles down here, gottit?”

The transmission cut off, but Sam shoved that extra little bit of pressure that he’d _really_ needed to the back of his priorities, and targeted both battlecruisers’ firewalls with a Trojan of Lucifer’s making.  
“Approaching Sol Organa, sir. CEs have called off pursuit and are returning to the battlecruiser, battlecruiser still on pursuit course.” Reme reported. Just as Sam had predicted; the CE shields didn’t have the power to withstand temperatures this close to the sun, unlike the two larger ships in this pursuit.  
“Ruby, take us as close to the sun as you can without frying us.” It took Sam conscious effort not to clench his hands into the armrest with nerves as the battlecruiser took another potshot at them. But the ghost of the Captain whose place he now sat in soothed his mind a little. Lucifer would look at him with that cocky fucking smirk and tell him to sit back and watch. That everything would be ok, because failure wasn’t a possibility. And Sam would believe him with all his heart. Now he needed to learn to have that much faith in himself, and ensure the crew trusted him too.

“Outside temperature 1 terwatt and rising, shields effective. Battlecruiser still in pursuit.” Reme reported, and Sam glanced at Ruby at the very front of the bridge. Her entire body was utterly focussed on the controls and readings, an expert trained by Lucifer over hundreds of years. This is why he’d needed the best coxswain at work, because there was so much that could go wrong here; a random temperature fluctuation or solar flare could appear, a kilometre too far in might be too much for the shields, and then only the quick reactions of a very experienced pilot could get them out of there.   
“As close as you can.” Sam encouraged in a mimicry of Lucifer’s gentle yet persuasive way.   
“Sir, the battlecruiser has ceased course, steady at 6 mark 82, hull temperature 3 terawatts.” Reme swallowed; at this point they could all feel the warmth of the air they breathed creep up in heat.  
“They’re waiting for us to lose shield integrity and cook.” Sam had one more card up his sleeve, and he hoped it was an ace. The ambassador sat forward in his chair, and ran a hand through his dark hair to find it damp with sweat; they couldn’t go further in or last too long this close to the corona, and the battlecruiser Captain knew it. “Demelza, all power to the shields, drop camouflage.”  
“But sir – “  
“Just do it!” Sam snapped. The crew didn’t have much else to do other than trust him at this point, but it wasn’t a panicked move; the Syndicate didn’t know they had found the flagship of the pirate fleet, the most valuable target in the galaxy. Would that be enough of a temptation to draw them in? 

On the screen, the estimate time of the battlecruiser to planetary orbit had counted down to three minutes. It was ok. This would work.  
“Sir, the battlecruiser is moving toward us, attack pattern Q4.”   
Sam did an inward jump of joy - true he had no idea what attack pattern Q4 meant, but so long as Ruby and Demelza did, they would be fine.  
“Ruby, prepare for evasive manoeuvres. Engineer Lexley, arrange The Cage segments so that the lightspeed propulsion unit faces the battlecruiser and won’t send us into the sun. Demelza, calculate a Boomerang Lightspeed manoeuvre on my command.” It was up to the crew now, and Sam’s timing on the lightspeed jump. They should be close enough to the corona for this to work, but the ambassador could only hope to the Universe all the elements were correct. Sam kept his eyes on the battlecruiser’s movements as it came toward them, and licked his lips in what had to be over 30 C temperature.  
“Sir, I would not recommend a jump to lightspeed so close to a sun.” Demelza paused, but Sam didn’t blame her. There was a reason this strategy had only been pulled off once in Syndicate history. “The resulting energy output of the jump would interact with the plasma medium even from this distance and…oh.”  
“Glad you’re with me.” Sam shot her what might have come dangerously close to Lucifer’s douchebag smirk, then continued to the coxswain. “Ruby, keep us from being pinned between the sun and those plasma guns, but keep us close to the corona.”   
He knew he was asking a lot from her, but he believed she had the skill. “Long-range Battlecruiser guns are at the front, with an 45 degree spread, but if we can stay 500km ahead of them until they are positioned behind us, we’ll be out of range.”  
“Shield integrity at 60% and falling.” Reme updated, but he doubted they would reach their limit.

Sam hated to think how everything might have gone down if Dean hadn’t been so obsessed with battlecruisers. If his brother had been just a little less enthusiastic, if their relationship had been as removed as John had wanted it, they would most likely be dead by now. Just as Ruby banked hard to keep out of range, Sam’s MD pinged to alert him of his successful hack.   
“Got them.” This would make their manoeuvre so much less risky; he submitted a line of code to target the automatic Syndicate guns and cut off their communication with the other ship, just as the battlecruiser fell in line behind them to run them down. “Ruby, slow to sub-light 5, Demelza, get ready.”  
It must have been well over 40C on the bridge at this point – Sam’s skin shone with sweat, his mouth stuck with gummed saliva, and hell was he glad he’d never requested more of a uniform than his usual booty shorts. The rest of the crew seemed unaffected, but if they didn’t get out of here soon, not only would their acting, crazy Captain get heatstroke, but their Golems would probably die, instruments might start to fail, and the shields couldn’t last much longer against low terawatts. 

Sam wiped his forehead, closed down all the battlecruiser’s automatic weaponry with Lucifer’s Trojan and hoped to the Universe that he didn’t collapse before they got out of here.  
“Battlecruiser 400km and closing, shields switched to standard deflection. They’re trying to glance us and ram us into the sun.” Reme called out, and Sam knew they had only a few minutes before the virus was wiped. But they didn’t need minutes. “Battlecruiser at 200 kilometres…100…50 - ”  
“Demelza, now!” Sam yelled, and the stars blurred around them. There was a queasy wrench in his gut as the ship did a calculated hairpin turn at lightspeed, and he just had time to call for the cloaking device before they reappeared back in the system Sol Organa lit. Demelza had had the foresight to keep them well away from the sun, and just as well; a magnetic reconnection reaction of plasma had burst out of the corona in a red and white pillar. At that speed, the battlecruiser had been unable to avoid the coronal mass ejection, and Sam doubted there was anything left of the ship... 

Ugh. His vision blurred for a second, even though the temperature was on a steady decline, and his head throbbed. But their job was only half done.  
“Let’s never do that again.” Sam sighed and blinked away the blur. He shouldn’t have got heatstroke from such short exposure; he was just dehydrated and might need a shot of something later, but it shouldn’t be urgent. “Demelza, intercept course with the remaining battlecruiser.”  
“Proton-ion storm in the Sol quadrant from the CME, sir.” Reme reported and Sam nodded to show he understood. It might throw out their scanners and navigation, so the faster they got on with this, the better. And they only had a minute or so to deal with the remaining battlecruiser, but now that his Trojan was in the system, he still should be able to operate it even though they’d jumped out of range.

“Ensign Kravel, observe the previous communications on the channel I am uploading to your MD, then send a message corresponding to their patterns down it that says the battlecruisers are in pursuit of pirates toward the Gort system.” Sam sent the communications officer the channel and turned to the rest of the remaining battlecruiser he could now control. The core directive of the Trojan Lucifer had built was to target Syndicate shields, communication and weapons, and Sam wouldn’t be able to hack another server like the mainframe in the amount of time they had. He’d removed the signal delivery function from the battlecruiser’s communication channels, but copied an unaltered version of the channels to give to Kravel. Now it was time for the weapons and mirror deflectors to come down.  
“Ruby, we may only have a small window to get inside the shields before they override the virus or switch the weapons to manual.” As soon as the words were out of Sam’s mouth, his MD alerted him that the Trojan had been detected. “Approach sub-light 6.5, attack pattern Arrow.”

Despite being green on how the pirates referred Syndicate manoeuvres, Sam had discussed the options of the Cage at length with Ruby when he could; even then, a great deal of the ship’s structure and logical functionality escaped him.  
“Forlorn Hope and all battle segments, prepare to board. Vibrashielding engaged.” Sam just used his MD to speak to the 200 or so pirates about to launch. With a ship this size, and such a small window to get through the shields, Sam couldn’t wait for the Scarabs to do most of the work. The Syndicate had plasma weapons, which he knew could take out Scarabs, but the occupant aliens that made up Lucifer’s crew could pick up another body if their own got fried.  
“I am not taking orders from you, whore!” A tone Sam recognized well spat along an open channel. Great, Abaddon wanted to make this a public affair. A myriad of bitchy retorts popped into his head, but he was the captain of a ship now. He was the one everyone looked to for answers, support and command, and he couldn’t afford to let his personal aggravation get in the way. And Sam was nothing if he couldn’t talk himself out of a situation.

“Abaddon, you are the best melee fighter and ship boarder we have. Crowley would say so, and if Lucifer himself was here, he would say so.” Sam took the silence as a positive and not Abaddon storming up here to kill him. “Lucifer would want you to lead this attack, and I agree with him; his ship in in your hands now, not mine.”  
“Battlecruiser within attacking distance, their shields are still up, they are preparing to fire.” Reme called, and Sam opened the small window of time they had and disengaged the weapons. His MD dinged again to tell him that something was fighting his Trojan. Fuck, they needed to do this faster.  
“I’m doing this for Lucifer, not you.” Abaddon growled, then cut out, and Sam huffed out a relieved sigh. Damn, there was a reason he was an ambassador instead of a Captain – pressure like this all day, every day would burn him out.  
“They’ll switch to manual weapon control in moments.” Sam reported down the shipwide channel. With a line of code, he accessed the program that ran the Battlecruiser’s deflectors and shut it down while he could. Whichever technician or program was on his virus was good, and despite being the best on the pirate ship, Sam hadn’t dedicated his whole life to writing codes like Syndicate IT. “Attack now!”

Over a hundred segments burst out of The Cage’s structural matrix and cloak in a stream like an arrow. It split into two groups, then plunged like claws into the hull – Scarabs at the top of the ship to take out the bridge crew, pirates at the bottom to deal with the more dangerous targets. A moment after they hit, the mirror deflectors snapped on, cut The Cage off from the boarding party.  
“Abaddon, you’re on your own.” Sam swallowed and shifted in his chair a little to unstick his skin from the warm leather.  
“Good!” The woman crowed amidst screams and the screech of weapon bolts, but her enthusiasm didn’t relax the ambassador. He might have just killed them all. If Abaddon couldn’t secure the Battlecruiser, then Sam would have lost Lucifer’s attack force and they would have no defence left against the Syndicate other than flight.   
“Ruby, get us out of range of those plasma canons, they’re back online.”

The coxswain abandoned their boarding party without question. Everybody knew this was a gamble. It was up to Abaddon, her warriors and the Scarabs now, and Sam wondered what they odds were. He knew physical wounds like breakages, cuts and scrapes weren’t so much of a problem for the occupant aliens, but against plasma or grenades? All he could do now was hope.

 

The seconds ticked into minutes, and the minutes seemed longer and longer as more passed in tense silence. Just as Sam was about to call for another report, Kravel snatched up the communications MD.  
“Abaddon on channel 3, sir.” The Ensign breathed, and Sam almost laughed. That was Abaddon alright – wouldn’t contact him directly even if she was dying or victorious. He hadn’t realized he had his own MD in such a tight grasp that his palms throbbed.  
“Accept.” He peeled his fingers back as his heart thumped through his chest. Calm. This crew was the best, probably eons old and practised in their art.  
“The Battlecruiser is ours!” Abaddon jeered, voice alight with thrill and bloodlust, and the silence of the bridge burst into whoops and hisses of excitement. Sam almost slid out of his chair with relief. “We lost half our Scarabs and some of us need new meatsuits, but there are plenty to spare. I expect a full report to be written up for Lucifer, _human_.”  
Well, ‘human’ was a step up from ‘whore’, so Sam would take his blessings where he could get them. He shared a relieved glance with Ruby, who shot him a pleased smile as well; they both knew this was some kind of progress with the human-hating Abaddon.  
“Of course. I’m sure Lucifer will reward you well.” He sighed, tipped his head back for a moment, then closed his eyes. It had worked. It had actually worked. “The Syndicate may send more ships. We need to get out of here as soon as we can. Set the Battlecruiser on a collision course with Sol Organa, and return to The Cage.”

After Abaddon’s grudging agreement to follow his orders, Sam turned to Kravel. “Contact Crowley, get him up here on the double. We are getting out of here. Ruby…command is yours whenever you want it.”  
The pilot turned in her seat as the hum and chatter of communication lines, reports and relieved conversation filled the bridge again.  
“You know, I think Lucifer chose you for a very good reason. You out of all the others he could have picked. He knew there was more to you than looks. You make a brilliant captain and a brilliant consort for our god.” She shot him the most warm smile, and Sam dipped his head a little in thanks for the show of solidarity.  
“That or he was just really bored.” He huffed as an afterthought, and both Ruby and Demelza broke out into laughter. The ambassador found himself with a grin on his face too, and swiped the sweat off his forehead, still half unable to believe they’d lived through that. It was tinged with a little sadness though, and Sam felt his smile fade as he gazed off past the occupied Battlecruiser into space. It felt like moving on, like leaving Lucifer behind in a way, and that wrenched something raw in his chest. How long would it take? Years? Decades? More than Sam’s lifespan for Lucifer to outrun his kind?

 

When N shift came around, when Crowley and the boarding party was back on board and they were star systems away from Owantu, Sam wandered back into his – Lucifer’s – quarters, arms wrapped around himself. The stress of the day seemed to hang more heavily on his limbs than any hard work had, and he’d decided to head to bed before he keeled over in a corridor somewhere and woke up in a previously unexplored part of this goddamn magical maze ship. No wonder Captains had an average work span of ten years if it left them this drained at the end of every day, Sam thought as he tossed his trusty bootyshorts in the Cleaning System and grabbed some food in the usual mindless routine. He hadn’t been able to bring himself to sit at the table since Lucifer vanished, so Sam just paced the floor as he ate his sacazawo naked. He’d get dressed to sleep, but it wasn’t as though he was going to have any guests.

Sam sighed, bowl in one hand, and looked up into the vast vault above him. The ghost of a memory let him see bright feathers and Lucifer’s smirk in the gloom. He ran his own hand across a muscular side to trace the path of those sure, calloused fingers months ago, but the pit in his stomach ate any arousal that might come of it. This hollowness came and went like a fickle tide, sometimes better, sometimes worse. Sometimes he didn’t leave his bed because of it, but other days the gap was filled by energy and determination and he made the most of his time. But right now he felt as gutted and empty as the room in front of him, despite the excitement and success of the day. 

Sam stared up into the dim void for another moment, then dropped his unfinished meal back into the Producer in silence. Silence was probably better than talking to himself, a habit from studying alone that he’d fallen back into. Without really being aware of it, the ambassador slid his shorts back on, and headed across toward the bed, mind set on the one thing he never thought he’d ever need each day, but now looked forward to more than anything else. Sam dropped to his knees in front of the bed, and it felt as though the weight of the pit inside him dragged him to the floor. A rinse of heat shot up his nose as the cool metal of the floor pressed into his knees and calves, grounded him from his hopes, his fears and his delusions.

“Lucifer…” Sam clasped his hands and buried his face in his forearms for a moment as a swell of this emptiness washed up through him so hard that he choked on a sob. “Lucifer, I miss you so much.”  
The ambassador took a deep breath to stop the tremor in his voice, but it was a hard won battle; a minute of swallows, disjointed breaths and escaped tears passed before Sam trusted himself to speak again.  
“Lucifer, I’m so afraid that I’ll never see you again.” He finally breathed out, as more hot tears slid down his cheeks. He’d never admitted that to himself or in his prayers before, but it was the deepest truth. “I’m so, so afraid. You – “ He swallowed again, and tried to keep his voice clear. “You were so bright, in my life, you were like a sun, and now I – “  
Sam gritted his teeth as his body betrayed him again, tried to shake his body with another sob. “I know I can carry on without you. We all can survive, Lucifer. Today I took command while Crowley was on Owantu picking up Loquavium, and the crew and I took out two Battlecruisers. You’ll – huh,” He gave a little sardonic laugh through the tears. “You’ll be happy to hear that Abaddon and I are almost on speaking terms. Even called me ‘human’ instead of whore.”  
Sam sniffed, checked his nose on his hand and wiped away the mess of tears on his cheeks before he continued to the silence and darkness. “I miss you. I miss you, and it hurts like a physical wound so-sometimes, Lucifer. Some days are better, some worse, b-but…”

This time he couldn’t stop the sound of the violent sob that shook his body, even behind gritted teeth. “I miss you. I pray and I hope that you’re alive and well, that you’re safe, that you’re running and are too clever to be caught. B-but what if you’re not? What if you’re imprisoned or wounded and I can’t help? What if y-you’re dead?”  
Sam barely whispered the word as he pressed his knotted fingers against his forehead, and tears pattered on to the metal floor, tickled the skin of his neck as they slid down him.  
“I know you can’t give a sign, I know you can’t comfort me, and that this must be awful to listen to, and I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” He squeezed his hands tight, whole body a tense string of restraint as he tried to contain this grief. “Just…wherever you are, whatever you’re doing…I love you, and I will wait for you. I’ll wait until I’m f-fucking-g old and-d g-g-grey if I have to – “ Sam cut off and caught his ragged breath with a hand across his mouth. It took another moment of holding his breath to get a handle on his damn idiot self before he could speak without stumbling over everything. “I know that I probably sound like a wretched idiot right now, and when you come back, you’ll tell me I was a fool for worrying about your…your stupid, smarmy ass – “ The ambassador shook his head with a bittersweet smile, and let out a laugh that was probably more of a disguised sob. “But when you come back I don’t think I’ll care about anything other than being with you, even if you tease me for the rest of my goddamn life.”

He huffed out a deep sigh, and knelt there for a moment, as the tears trickled to an unsteady halt. It had been good to get that out, to talk, even to thin air. It numbed the ache in his chest somewhat. There was nothing much else Sam could think to say that he hadn’t already said, so he finished with a quiet ‘Amen’ and hauled himself up off the floor and into the bed that was far too large for just one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually did a HEAP of research for this chapter because science! Ending on a bit of a sad note there - this makes me sad every time I read it :/ But I hope the space battle lived up to epicness, and I hope you all enjoyed the chapter! n.n On that note, it's wonderful to see new readers/new commenters! I'm so excited that y'all are enjoying my work, and thank you so much for taking the time to leave comments :D And cheers for everyone else too for being such an amazing response network - I treasure the feedback y'all give me ♥ anyway, I'd love to hear what you thought of this chapter, and stay awesome my buddies! ✲ﾟ｡.(✧╹◡╹)ﾉ☆.｡₀:*ﾟ
> 
> _If you'd like to support me, you can[check out my novel](https://www.kobo.com/nz/en/ebook/tea-in-the-outback) or [feed the author!](https://www.paypal.com/cgi-bin/webscr?cmd=_s-xclick&hosted_button_id=TT3Q6W95QFSM2)_


	25. Sundance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Just before we get into it, this chapter was hugely inspired by this song, and it fits a lot of the rest of the fic as well. It's really beautiful, and I would love it if y'all could give it a listen if you can, before during or after you read. I'm really excited to share it with you!  
> [Song here! ](https://faderhead.bandcamp.com/track/escape-gravity)  
> (I would have embedded it as a video/audio file, but I don't know how :/ )

The Cage spent the next full three shift day working through what Ruby called the Glorious Horror; a red and purple nebula spouted from the death throes of an unnamed sun in its Red Dwarf phase. Despite the ionization corrupting their scanners, Lucifer’s algorithm led them through it to a thin strip of space about two hundred kilometres across, between the blossoming plumes of colour and an asteroid belt that enclosed a vast, pale blue planet. Between these two natural hazards was the safest zone they’d been led to yet; the Syndicate would have to be crazy to attempt a nebula or an asteroid belt to get to them, and on top of that, they were so deep in space that Sam hardly recognized any location markers on the navigational chart. The sensation of aloneness grew with the unfamiliarity: Deep Space Astrophobia was the proper name for the common affliction. It grew like a pressure on the back of his mind, like they would be lost, swallowed in the unending maw of space, insignificant little blips in this black infinity that contained so much. But Sam was a logical man, and pushed it back, ignored its incessant press. This was temporary. Soon Lucifer would come, and they would go back to a solar system that they knew and where they mattered. 

For two shift days they stayed there while the engineers fixed the hull. It must have been quite a view for them, even better than the bridge; the asteroids soared and collided on their left while the Glorious Horror’s frozen whorls glittered in all their bright beauty on their right. Despite the growing discomfort in his head, Sam still kept the display screen rigged in his quarters online just in case Lucifer did appear. He kept a panoramic of the surrounding space on his MD for when he was neither on the bridge or in Lucifer’s quarters, and just hung on to hope no matter how painful it might be. It was in the second N shift in their patch of safety that their outlook changed for the better.

 

A fitful kind of darkness throbbed under the ambassador’s eyes, like sleep on a hot summer night on Earth IV where the heat urged you awake, but tiredness dragged you back down again. White blotches flitted inside his vision and leftover echoes of dreams blurred in ghosts of colour and sound through his half-unconscious brain.

_Sam._

Something whispered in his head, and Sam’s subconscious tossed up whether the voice came in his dreams or from the world of the wakeful.

_Sam._

It called again, and Sam groaned a little as the haven of sleep slipped away from him; he had fallen out of favour with rest and cherished every moment he got. Now he understood why Lucifer got murderous when anyone woke him up. Sam wondered, for a moment, whether Lucifer still had to sleep and eat as that supernova of white light the Captain had become months back. Would he stay like that forever? Or…Sam’s sleepy thoughts drifted again; the ambassador rolled over, curled up some more and tried to recapture his dreams.

_Sam._

The ambassador blinked at the louder call with a displeased grunt, rubbed his sore eyes and sat up in the mess of blankets he’d created in his nightly throes. The display on his MD read 2am. Ugh, what the heck? Well at least he had kinda flexible work hours as a whatever-the-hell his job was on The Cage.  
“Mm?” Sam peered into the gloom of the room, only lit by the colours of the visual display screen’s area scans. He knew nobody was there, but the habit of talking to himself had him making those little noises in his own company as well. His own name flitted through his head again like a voice on the breeze, and Sam swore…  
“Lucifer?” The ambassador sat bolt upright. The dull thud of his heart beat like a drum in his ears, and Sam tossed off the covers, looked around for the source. If this was a dream, he didn’t want to wake up.  
_Come on._ The voice seemed to whisper from the door, but it barely finished the last word before Sam scrambled over. The ambassador fumbled with his MD at the sealed lock for a moment, so hurried that it skittered out of his hand when the triangle segments hushed open. Sam didn’t even bother to pick it back up again, just bolted out into the corridor. It was N shift, so he doubted any of the crew would come across him unless Lucifer’s call led him to the weapon bays or the bridge.

“Lucifer!” Sam hissed to the empty chrome hallway.  
_This way._ The voice hummed in his head, a perfect mimicry of Lucifer’s amused asshole tone as it trailed off to the left. A small niggle in his stomach reminded him that this literally might be a mimicry of the Pirate King; Telphousa, Crocotta and other telepathic space dwellers could use memories and imitations to draw space farers out as easy meals. But Sam couldn’t ignore this. He just couldn’t, not after so long. 

 

The voice led him across the ship with gentle calls and encouragement, down a level, but away from the bridge. Sam padded past the science sections, away from the core and into a piece of the ship he hadn’t yet explored in this labyrinth: a hallway with skylights to space in the right corner of the ceiling.  
_Sam this way._ Lucifer murmured, and a coil of dismay plunged into Sam’s stomach as he turned his head in the direction. The thick frame of an airlock door swept up in an arch in front of him – The Cage must be the only damn ship in the galaxy with bronze gothic archways to mark an airlock. Another curl of unease twisted his stomach at the thought that this was exactly Telphousa would do; tempt a star sailor out into space to their death.

“Lucifer…” Sam caressed his fingers over the door release pad as though it were the silken skin of Lucifer’s bare waist. Bittersweet yearning trembled in his touch, and Sam huffed out a shaky breath as he peered through the triangle window. There was nothing in the chamber beyond, and nothing he could see in space beyond that. The thud of his heart filled the empty corridor, and the ambassador splayed his left palm on the cool bronze surface of the door.  
_Please my pretty thing. Have faith._  
Sam could almost feel the brush of those seductive lips on his ear, could almost feel Lucifer’s breath tickle his skin, could see those intricate blue eyes behind his closed lids. An ache burned in his chest, and Sam knew that even if this was a trick, he couldn’t resist it. With the smallest of movements, the ambassador pressed the release pad and opened his eyes as he crept into the small room. His heart seemed even louder in here, it seemed to echo around the small, silent space that might become his tomb. 

The ambassador hugged his arms around his chest as the inner door slid shut without a sound behind him. It was right there, the huge eternal emptiness. Just one door between him and infinity. It suddenly seemed so close and one part of Sam screamed to run, get back inside the ship, be safe. But the other part urged him on with deadly curiosity. Like standing in a high place and wanting to jump. Sam swallowed, and padded across to the outer release control panel.  
“Lucifer, if you are out there or far away…” Sam trailed off as he pushed the release panel, and warning klaxons blared. “I pray for your protection.”

The door opened a horizontal split into space, and the ambassador stared entranced as the oxygen whirled out of the room, danced with his hair on the way out. He expected to gasp for air, or scream with sudden chill, but nothing happened except… A bright light twinkled on the floor nearest the ledge into space. Like a moth to a light, Sam took slow steps forward toward it, until his eyes shone with the sight. Looking down at him, like something from an ancient painting was Lucifer. His huge white feathers glowed against the stark black behind him, his skin shone, but not too bright to look at and those pale eyes seemed just as entranced as Sam’s. But Sam didn’t see power or beauty beyond description. He saw home.  
“Amen.” Lucifer’s voice was barely a whisper, and a bright hand reached down toward him. Sam stretched up toward it, suddenly afraid that this wasn’t real and a single touch would lurch him awake, alone in their quarters. Then Lucifer’s fingers latched around his wrist, solid and _real_ , and drew him into the Captain’s arms. The touch, the dense body against him, the sensation of breath and relief hit Sam in the chest like a plasma bolt. He grappled his arms around Lucifer’s shoulders, his thighs around his hips, buried his face in skin and engraved leather and just clung there, breath sharp with exhilaration. They stayed like that, silent and pressed so tight against one another that it almost hurt for one minute, ten minutes, an hour, Sam had no idea. He was in Lucifer’s arms again, and that was all that mattered in this moment. The slow rhythm of the archangel’s wingbeats that kept them in place settled his heart, rocked him calm again in the stillness of space.

“Your prayers were wonderful.” Lucifer finally murmured into his hair and nuzzled a stubbled jaw against his temple. “Some more…distracting than others.”  
The ambassador felt Lucifer’s stomach jump against his own as he chuckled, and Sam managed out a breathy laugh as well, then lifted his face to look at the Captain. A second longer of hunger hung between them, and then Sam tangled his fingers into Lucifer’s hair and caught those beautiful lips. They’d never kissed enough. They’d never held each other enough. For all the time they’d had, it seemed like they’d done so little. So Sam drank in the heat of Lucifer’s mouth, pushed his tongue against the other man’s, worked his lips sore on that gorgeous, scruffy stubble, and clung on so tight he thought he’d never let go.  
When they finally broke for breath, Sam stroked a thirsty hand down Lucifer’s jaw, unable to get enough of the Captain’s touch all at once.  
“I know what you are.” He managed out, and never broke eye contact with his lover. “I know who you are. But to me you are home.”  
“Sam.” Lucifer tilted his head up and brushed a kiss on his forehead that tingled all the way down to his shoulders. “You know, in your prayers…. I have never felt so much love directed at me. Not amongst my family, not amongst my little stormclouds even. Nothing in the Universe, nothing in millions of years has ached for me like you do, you little bright thing. And so I kept running. I kept fighting, and I found my way back to you.”

Two fingers brushed under Sam’s chin, and Sam suddenly recalled something Fereesha had said months ago: “Creatures that old should be sad. But he is not sad, especially when he is with you. That is very easy to see.” The pressure in his chest welled up like oil to the surface of a geyser and then the yearning, the happiness, the relief washed over Sam in such a strong wave that a tear flew down the ambassador’s cheek before he could stop it. Gentle lips kissed up the wet line, and then found their way to his ear.  
“Let me show you something.”  
The arm around Sam’s waist gathered him up into a bridal-style hold, but Sam wasn’t about to complain. He’d leave it up to Lucifer to decide what best way to carry a man while they flew through space, because hell no did he want to get dropped.

One beat of Lucifer’s wings took them past the Cage into the channel of clear space, and Sam didn’t know where to look half the time. He didn’t want to take his eyes off Lucifer, but he’d never seen the outer hull of The Cage this close or had such an intense view; the nebula seemed to shine in a way the ship display screen dimmed. It spanned in waves and plumes like a timeless ocean of colour, but then Sam also wanted to look at how Lucifer’s wings folded, how his feathers shuffled and propelled them through the silence. Everything around him was impossible and beautiful, and he just held on to Lucifer’s neck and grinned at the wonder of it all. Now that the Captain was back, the endless black didn’t seem so consuming.  
“I’ve missed your smile.” Lucifer smirked down at him as they soared down the trail of the nebula, away from The Cage and the eggshell blue planet that sat within its asteroids.  
“I’ve missed calling you a lazy bitch in the morning.” Sam arched his eyebrows back and his Captain looked pleased no end for being called a bitch.  
“I see you’ve still got that smart mouth on you, Winchester.” Lucifer grinned back, folded his wings and did a corkscrew roll in the blackness of space. Holy shit, the colour and depth of space whirled around him for a second like being inside a Cleaning System on drugs. Well, with those rock solid arms around him, Sam didn’t feel like the asshole would drop him, but a little warning might be nice.  
“I see you’re still a douchebag.” Sam panted a little as they righted themselves. He wondered for a moment whether Lucifer had some sort of in-built gravity replicator so that he didn’t lose track of which way up he was. Then again, as a lone entity in space, Sam supposed it didn’t matter that much.  
“Nice to know we haven’t changed.” Lucifer’s curved lip pulled twitched up at the side, and warmth melted all the ice from those eyes.  
“Well, I had to use Crowley to keep me on my toes which he probably didn’t appreciate.” Sam grinned then looked out in front of them. 

The Red Dwarf loomed like a great eyeball in the darkness. Its crimson light sent glints of fuchsia across Lucifer’s feathers, the same light that reflected off the nebula behind them. Jeez…they must have travelled an hour’s worth of ship time in a few minutes. Sam wondered what Lucifer classed as ‘fast’ in his travels, then remembered how the Captain was able to snap them from one place to another in an instant.  
“You didn’t terrorize him too much I hope?” Lucifer’s eyes were now fixed on the sun as well as they swooped in toward it. Was that where they were headed? To the sun? Although despite its close proximity, there was no intense heat or light; it seemed they could both look at it fine.  
“Only as much as he deserves.” Sam huffed, and earned one of Lucifer’s wonderful laughs.  
“Alright now, hold on tight.” The Captain shot him a look full of leftover amusement, and a lurch of excitement splashed up Sam’s chest in anticipation of whatever Lucifer was about to do. He latched his hands more firmly together behind Lucifer’s neck, and was so fucking glad he did, because Lucifer snapped his wings tight and dove. Right into the sun.

“Holy shit!” Was all that really described the situation as they plunged through layers of red fire. It didn’t burn or flare up on his skin, although Sam at least should be less than dust by now. It just whooshed around them as they plummeted through the corona, chromosphere and further, Sam really stopped trying to do the science at that point. Lucifer laughed like the fucking insane creature he was, and Sam could hardly breathe. It wasn’t like the wind whipped his breath away, since there was no airflow in space, but the quickly nearing sight beneath him had to be one that no human had ever seen with the naked eye. A huge expanse of molten fire roared and surged in a sea beneath them, dotted with wide black islands of sunspot. Red geysers spouted up off the surface, arcs of plasma jumped and twisted, but Lucifer didn’t break his descent, even as they dove right among the chaos of the surface flares.  
“Shall we dance?” The red-lit blonde chuckled and flared his wings in a sudden stop. Then Sam just about had a heart attack as Lucifer dropped him. He’d like to say he took it well, but who in their right fucking mind took being _dropped into a sun_ well? Sam yelled and clawed up at this fucking bastard, just as a strong, cool hand caught his wrist.  
“What sort of fucking dance is that?” Sam tried to yell, but it came out as more of a gasp as adrenaline thundered through his system. Lucifer, that asshole, just gave a melodious laugh and smirked down at him.  
“Look down, cutie.” 

Sam didn’t really have a choice, so he swallowed and looked beneath him. By the stars…his bare toes brushed the surface of the red plasma; it jumped up around his ankles with only a slight warmth. If his breath hadn’t been snatched away in fright, it would have been snatched away in awe. He was standing on a sun. Of all the impossible things he’d expected as the lover of the Pirate King, this hadn’t been one of them. It hardly seemed real that he was dipping his toes into a sea of heat over _3,000 degrees_.  
“Now dance with me.” Lucifer took in his awe with gentle amusement, then beat those huge wings. Before Sam could say anything, his hand was pulled along with the momentum and his feet skimmed across the surface, leaving a furrow in his wake like an ice skater.  
“Huh…” Sam grinned over the thunder over his heart as the alien swerved to dive under a towering archway of red and yellow plasma, and then he was laughing all over again. This was ridiculous, awe inspiring, impossible and _fun._ Sam trailed his toes in the liquid fire, reached his spare hand out to brush the translucent crimson wall of the arch, then grinned up at Lucifer as the Captain spun them around in a neat circle in a dark sunspot beyond the overpass. A spiral of scarlet and orange flame marked where Sam’s toes had trailed, and then with a whisk of wings, they sped onward through an obstacle course of surface phenomena. The ambassador’s heart still thundered, but more from exhilaration and delight than fear. Then, as they danced, Lucifer began to sing in the silence of space. The song was in a language that Sam had never heard before, but the melody seemed to fit the movement and wild beauty of the sun as though they were made for each other. Like Lucifer’s wings, there was something about the tune and its sensation in the silent void of space that seemed as though Sam shouldn’t listen, like it wasn’t made for human ears. But the more Lucifer sang, the more his skin thrummed with that star-like glow. So Sam basked in it and danced with the biggest smile he’d had on his face for months. As far as dates went, he had to conclude that this was possibly the best the entire Universe had to offer.

 

They must have danced over the Red Dwarf for half an hour before Lucifer drew Sam back up into his arms.  
“Like your first sundance then?” Lucifer smirked at Sam and stole a quick kiss as they hovered over the surface. “My species used to sundance all the time when they were younger and less serious, and I haven’t done that since before the creation of Earth. Usually we’d use our true voices to sing – the high frequency, inter-plane sound you would have heard when I left – but it would draw my own kind like metal to a magnet.”  
“I did. I loved it.” Sam laughed out, still high on the buzz of adrenaline as fire plumed and whipped around them. “Apart from the start where I thought you’d dropped me into a sun.”  
That earned a snicker and a flash of roguish teeth. “You know, I thought a man in the top IQ of the Syndicate would know better than that.”  
“Well apparently near death experiences don’t allow logical thinking, butterfingers.” The ambassador grinned, then laid his head in the curve of Lucifer’s neck. By the Universe they had so much to talk about, so much do to… he wanted to have everything at once and didn’t know where to start.  
“Then let me make it up to you.” That melodious voice murmured, and Lucifer’s great white feathers folded in a beat to take them upward toward the nebula.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Lucifer's back! I hope you enjoyed their reunion, I certainly did n.n No more sad Sam! I'd love to hear what you thought of it, or what might come next, because not everything is as resolved as it might seem ;) Also, ugh, I would definitely get Deep Space Astrophobia - space and submarines give me the heebies 8(. But thank you all so much for your kudos and comments, your comments especially always make my day. I know it takes more time than kudos to write a message so thank you so much to everybody who takes the time! You are all awesome n.n Stay fantastic my buddies!  
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	26. Eyes Full of Stars

They burst out from the sun in a corkscrew of speed, but this time Lucifer plunged straight into the Glorious Horror like a dolphin might dive back into the sea. Despite what must have been massive amounts of ion calamity, Sam could see the phenomenon just fine, could even try and reach out to touch the gaseous flickers of colour before they wisped away. Alright, nebulae may be horrific to deal with in a ship, but on the oh so common occasion where one had a mythological being as an escort…Sam would definitely recommend.  
“I could watch the wonder in your eyes for centuries.” Lucifer smirked down at him, but his gaze was soft. Sam honestly didn’t know how to respond to that; he was just too happy for a sassy retort, and he had no idea how to express the joy that welled up in him as he gazed into Lucifer’s eyes. So Sam just leaned forward and kissed him again to show with actions what he couldn’t put into words.  
Lucifer made a small, intimate noise of happiness and explored Sam’s lips in a slow, luxurious movement, like after so much time he wanted to memorize every dip and line of the ambassador’s mouth. Sam pushed his tongue against the Captain’s, hot and decadent, determined to indulge in everything he’d ached for. In the spires of the nebula it was just the two of them; no duties, no far-off rebellion, no crew, and it was almost if they didn’t have time as an audience either. Just Lucifer’s mouth, his wiry scruff, his warm body and leather. Sam just breathed his lover’s breath as they kissed so long and deep that he was dizzy with the headiness of it after a minute or two, and his lips buzzed from friction. But the sensation of Lucifer’s heat was too good to leave alone.

The older blonde gave a low groan around Sam’s tongue as the younger Winchester tangled his fingers deeper into Lucifer’s hair, pressed them as close as they could get. Tingles smattered down Sam’s chest to his cock, urged it up against the soft inside of his shorts as Lucifer’s left arm lowered his legs from the sideways hold. The other arm shifted to hook under Sam’s ass as the ambassador wrapped his thighs around the other man’s hips, but there was no rush in their movements. Every touch, every drag of skin and soft little noise between them was priceless.  
“Let me answer some of those prayers.” Lucifer’s breathless voice harboured that asshole amusement as he broke the kiss and rubbed their aroused bodies together with one hand to the lazy beat of those great white wings.  
“Mm, well I pray that while you were on the run you’ve learned how to make your own b-breakfast.” Sam gasped on the last word as Lucifer’s strong hand squeezed his ass. Fucking bastard, interrupting his sass.  
“Given I didn’t have to eat till yesterday, that would be a no.” The Captain chuckled, then caught his lips again. 

His tongue lapped along Sam’s in hot, slow drags that matched the rhythm of their bodies, and Lucifer’s other hand massaged up the ambassador’s side to splay across his shoulder blade. The friction of the Pirate King’s erection thrummed heat from the raw pleasure of Sam’s cock out across his groin. Oh that was good, that was so good…for a long few moments he just ground with the lazy rhythm, shared this mutual bliss until his thighs began to shake, little noises pushed up his throat and the head of his cock became so sensitive against the drag of fabric that a few more thrusts might end him right there. And by the Universe, Sam was not gonna let a chance to have sex in space slip by if he could help it. So the ambassador pulled his hips back a little and slid a hand down to flip open Lucifer’s belt and leather pants.  
“Eager – mm – little thing, aren’t you?” Lucifer managed out across Sam’s lips, and the ambassador just worked his needy mouth up toward the Captains ear.  
“And after three months, you’re _not_?” Sam whispered, even though they couldn’t have been somewhere more silent. Gentle teeth sparked zings down the younger Winchester’s spine as they grazed along the muscle of his shoulder, and Sam dragged his lips up along the curve of Lucifer’s ear in reply. With the hand between them, he squeezed along the Captain’s erection and smirked to smug heaven as his hand came back damp.  
“I never said that.” Lucifer panted, and drew his head back. For the first time in a while, Sam got to see his face and it made his breath even heavier: those sharp blue eyes had gone languid under their low lids, Lucifer’s lips were ravished, half open with desire and it reminded Sam of the look the man had given him the first time he’d watched Sam come; nothing short of adoration. The hand on Sam’s ass grasped into the material of his shorts, and the ambassador gasped at the friction as Lucifer ripped them off.

“Hold on to my wings Sam.” Lucifer murmured, then hefted him higher. It was a little unfair that Lucifer got to keep his clothes on, but the sigils on them might be the only thing keeping the other angels at bay. And that being said, the texture of the leather on his skin set his nerve endings alight, so Sam just grasped at the hollow bones of Lucifer’s wings, delighted at how soft the feathers were on his palms. The older blonde gave a low, needy groan against Sam’s chest, and the sound coiled straight into his groin. A finger pushed into him, clicked on his lubrication cybernetic, just as Sam looked away from his lover out into space. The gasp that left his lips wasn’t just one of pleasure, but awe too. It was as though Sam’s eyes were parched, and he couldn’t drink in enough of the lustrous shimmer around them; the nebula was like an impossible city that rose up in spires and domes, a vibrant burst in the infinite void around them. He panted and stared with eyes full of stars as his body trembled, mind overcome with pleasure and wonder. A moan broke out of his lips before he could reign it in he was so distracted, and the sound seemed to reverberate in the silence of space. 

Sam’s hands clutched harder in Lucifer’s feathers, although he didn’t intend it, but the Captain’s reaction made his cock weep precome: below him, Lucifer keened, kissed and licked decadent hot lines up his pecs to his nipples, and Sam just tilted his head back, drank in the rich purples and reds, lost between sensations. Leather slipped against the inside of his thighs as Lucifer lowered him down his waist a little, then the thick head of the other man’s cock pressed against his slick entrance. A shiver wracked up his legs, so hard that Sam swore the only thing keeping him in place was Lucifer’s rock solid grip of both hands under his spread ass cheeks.  
“Oh, oh – “ Sam choked off and just gripped the wing-bone tighter. This wasn’t like anything before, where their lovemaking had been a vigorous and lusty thing. That cock was silky and slow as it breached him, a sensuous, inescapable heat. Lucifer’s clothes and hands shifted against his naked skin as Sam clung to this ancient creature, unable to fully register that the being inside him was older than the first Earth. The Glorious Horror shimmered above him, radiant white plumage shone under his fingers and breath heaved hard out his chest at every cant of Lucifer’s hips as that pace never quickened, that urgency built in his belly – 

“Lucifer…” The weak cry left Sam’s lips as a rinse of heat shook his body head to foot, curled his toes against the back of Lucifer’s thighs.  
“I know pet, I know.” The Captain moaned against his chest. Sam had never seen him like this or heard his voice break, and it was hot, by the Universe, that was going to make him come. Lucifer’s cock all of a sudden dragged over that bump of pleasure, and a rough, high noise broke out of Sam’s throat. Oh, oh fuck, oh by the _Universe_ that was slow and gorgeous, no, oh shit…  
Sweat shone on Sam’s skin, and as the ambassador adjusted his grip in desperation, he felt his nails scratch the membrane of Lucifer’s wing.  
“Sam, do that again, do it again, oh fuck!” A whole-body shudder shook the Captain straight through his wings as he gasped, and Sam’s cock throbbed hard just as Lucifer pushed in again with his intense, slow rhythm. The younger Winchester’s thighs contracted so tight around Lucifer’s waist that a less durable lover might have gotten a cracked rib, as silky hot pressure massaged his prostate. A punch of heat burst up his cock, and Sam threw his head back, dug his nails into where he hoped Lucifer wanted it, and drank in the violet plumes around them as white sprayed from the sensitive slit of his cock. Sam gasped through it, this orgasm that seemed something beyond physical in the splendour of the nebula’s heart, but couldn’t writhe; Lucifer’s arms snapped around him, there was a gutted, almost shocked sound, and then the other man went rigid with ecstasy. Sam convulsed again and again as Lucifer finished in him, mesmerized by the new noises his nails brought, mesmerized by their bliss in the vastness of space, high and dazed on sensation.

“I think…” Sam panted into Lucifer’s hair when the crest of his ecstasy had washed away enough for him to bring his attention back to cognitive thinking. “I can beat Dean in crazy sex stories now.”  
“Just on time then.” The blonde alien tried to smirk up at him with lazy eyes, and Sam winced a little in over stimulation as Lucifer slid out of him. “You’ll be seeing him soon.”  
“What?” A burst of joy bubbled in Sam’s the ambassador’s chest as he stared at the Pirate King with wide eyes.  
“I led them here. With a prophecy and a star. You know, the usual.” Lucifer winked, but Sam knew him well enough to spot his top-level bullshittery.  
“Ooh, are they bringing gold, frankincense and myrrh, because, y’know, I’m always a slut for some myrrh.” The sarcasm in his voice could have killed a fragile Faragut, to whom some tones could be deadly, and the ambassador raised an eyebrow as Lucifer lowered him back down into the bridal hold.  
“Mmm, I’ll have to remember that one, my little Space Jesus.” Lucifer looked far too smug for his own good at Sam’s good humoured but still vaguely irritable side-eye.  
“Oh no, not you too.” Sam had forgotten he’d used that name in front of Lucifer so that Dean would recognize him in his encoded message.  
“Mm-hmm. Haven’t you seen the saint-like images of yourself in the media? All pure and sweet and righteous?” Oh, Lucifer was not going to let him forget this, was he? “I’m starting to think I should burn at your touch or something.”  
Sam just rolled his eyes. “But come on, you sent Dean co-ordinates didn’t you.”

Lucifer beat his wings harder and Sam caught his poor booty-shorts that had managed to float away a little as they’d had their fun. But it wasn’t as though he could wear them right now anyway, because _someone_ had mangled them to hell doing the sexy clothes rip.  
“Programmed their navigation for them, but I’m sure at least one of the crew recognized it was me. You might know him – Castiel?” Lucifer opened his wings into a gentle glide, and Sam drank in their luminescence, the glimmer of stars and colour between the feathers, the mirrored fire of the Glorious Horror that flashed across them. But the sight, paired with Lucifer’s question clicked together a connection in the ambassador's head; Lucifer wasn’t the first alien he’d seen with angelic wings. Castiel’s were black, lack-lustre and sick-looking, with none of the primal awe that Sam still felt when he looked at his lover’s plumage...but the similarity was too close to be a coincidence.  
“Yes…Castiel is Dean’s boyfriend I think. Is he like you – one of your kind I mean.” Sam wasn’t sure how far the biblical allusions extended or whether the whole systems and tiers of angelic hierarchy existed.  
“One of my kind, yes.” Lucifer hummed with amusement, although Sam wasn’t sure why. “But there are very few like me.”

***

Lucifer was received back on The Cage with utter exhilaration on the crew’s behalf – reactions varied from smiles and nods to dropping to their knees and bursting into tears. Thankfully, the Captain had deigned to drop by their quarters before he let his presence be known, so Sam didn’t have to be a part of the emotional celebrations with a ripped pair of leather booty shorts held across his tackle like a leaf. The Pirate King would have probably found that fun, but Sam had to draw the line somewhere.

_Alright, my little stormclouds,_ Lucifer’s warm voice resounded in Sam’s head too. That’s why the Cage never used shipwide coms when Lucifer was aboard. The Captain also did sound like a pleased father with his children, and now, with all his experience of Lucifer’s power, Sam was grudgingly convinced that the Pirate King had indeed created the crew. Well, the ambassador supposed, you could be an arrogant douchebag when you could practise what you preached.  
_Celebrate as you see fit. However, I will be needing the current bridge and guns crews for the moment, as we will be meeting up with our allied Battlecruiser shortly and, well, we can’t be too careful._ Lucifer’s melodious voice hummed, and Sam was certain that the N-shift bridge crew wouldn’t have left their posts for the biggest symposium in the Universe, just to be with their Captain again. Sam had to hide a grin at how cute that was; yes a little bit occultish, but hey, since when had the Devil not been occultish? A bubble of excitement welled up at Lucifer’s words though. It had been more than four months since he’d seen Dean in person, the most he and his brother had been separated in their entire lives. Sam supposed that he’d been prepared for it, though (unlike Lucifer’s departure), prepared for Dean to disappear among the stars for months while Sam did the same on ambassador cases. But he missed him, missed having such easy company, missed the shared memories and in-jokes and even (dare he say it) being treated like a kid brother sometimes. He was gonna hug the frickin lungs out of Dean, no matter how unmanly it was.

“You know, I’m going to forget your bitchface at this rate.” Lucifer tapped his fingers on the back of the leather command chair as the N-shift bridge crew bounced back to their posts. Sam thought he might be the first person in history to see what could be legitimately classed as a demon bounce.  
“Oh, when you sit down in a creative and stupid way, I’m sure you’ll get reminded.” The ambassador murmured back, because despite being a first rate sass maestro, he didn’t want to bring the mood of the crew down.  
“Is that a challenge?” The Captain shot him the most perky douchebag smile, then proceeded to slide on to the chair, twist around, then hook his knees over the top so that he was upside-down. The crew proceeded at if their god did this all the time. Maybe he did, but in either case, Lucifer got his bitchface.

“Molecular disturbance in the nebula, Captain.”  
Ten minutes and about the same amount of paced laps around the bridge later, Sam lifted his head up with hope as the Ensign called out. Even The Cage and its mysteries were unable to pick up exact entities in the ion disruption of the Glorious Horror, and Sam had been on tenterhooks as he paced, eyes peeled for the black prow of Dean’s ship through the red plumes.  
“Mm.” Lucifer tapped something on his MD, and without even a glance up at the ship, screen or crew, swung around back to only hook one leg over the chair arm. “It’s them alright.”  
As if on call (although Sam wouldn’t put it past Lucifer), the smooth, rounded side of the Black Impala ploughed through the nebula’s spires like a whale might breach the ocean surface in a lumbering leap.  
“Dean!” Sam breathed, and caught the back of Lucifer’s chair, chest tight all of a sudden. The knowledge of Dad’s betrayal, Dean’s sacrifice of his career, the shock of Mom’s murder, and the looming prospect of this political revolution, everything burst fresh inside him with a ferocious vigour, and the bridge went out of focus for a second with adrenaline.  
“Hail them.” Lucifer’s commands weren’t like Crowley’s. Crowley would bark and puff up or even yell in more stressful situations, but the Pirate King never raised his voice – in fact his commands could have been taken as suggestions if there wasn’t that ever-present touch of unquestionable authority that danced at the fringes of everything he did.

Sam almost protested that any sort of attempted communication would be impossible so close to a nebula, but bit his tongue; the impossible became possible with Lucifer back in the building.  
“Voice channel active, sire.” Crowley’s N-shift replacement at the liaison control reported.  
“This is the Pirate King Lucifer with a cordial invitation for Captain Winchester and his Second in Command to come aboard The Cage.” Lucifer pretty much purred down the line, and Sam’s eyebrows flew up: first of all, no wonder this guy had a silvertongue reputation, and second of all he wanted Dean and Castiel aboard The Cage?  
“We’re not going over to the Impala?” Sam cocked his head, the only one the bridge who dared question the Captain’s orders.  
“No pet, I should play it safe and stay aboard The Cage for now, especially with what I have in mind.” The older blonde winked up at him, but before Sam could wonder what surprises this eon old creature had in store for his brother and sweet, doe-eyed Castiel, Dean’s voice came through sharp and (understandably) suspicious.  
“Sam? Is Sam there?”  
  
Lucifer just motioned for Sam to speak, and the ambassador didn’t need to be told twice.  
“Yeah, Dean I’m here.” He couldn’t keep the grin out of his tone. “Don’t worry, it’s not a trap or anything – Lucifer just needs to stay on The Cage for now. Believe me, it’s safer that way.”  
There was a moment of channel silence as Dean presumably wrestled with every military instinct that blazed in neon that this was A Bad Idea, but it seemed faith in family won out in the end.  
“Alright, we’ll be across at 0400hrs.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, Sam and Lucifer got to, ehehe, make up for lost time as it were in this chapter. Dean's on his way too! I'd love to hear what you thought of it all and what Lucifer has in store! Thank you so much for you comments and kudos! Your comments especially keep me going, and give me something to look forward to in my week n.n Unfortunately, I’m afraid that I might have to miss next week’s update because of how stressful next weekend is going to be for me :/ I could update late, but that would throw my schedule out. Idk, I’ll see how it goes D: Shoutout to the_awesome_1 for Lucifer’s creative chair position – have kept that on the backburner since your comment in chapter 7 ;) Anyway, cheers for being the most amazing readers I could ask for, and stay awesome (*ﾉ・ω・)ﾉ♫♩ヽ(・ω・ヽ*)♬  
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	27. Metamorphosis

“Dean!” Sam pelted across the impromptu shuttlebay floor and bowled his older brother over into a ground hug that would have made Fareesha proud. Lucifer had reformed six or seven segments to create a shuttlebay – Sam hadn’t even known the walls and equipment had been retractable, but then again he should have just assumed the ridiculous at this point.  
“Agh!” Dean yelped under the pile of his mostly naked brother, and Castiel stared at them both with wide, confused eyes as if unsure whether his Captain needed assistance.  
“Sammy, you’re alright!” His big brother recovered a little and returned a very manly embrace. “And where the hell are your clothes, dude?”

Dean quirked an eyebrow, then shot a hard side-eye at Lucifer as Sam bounded back up and offered him a hand. Jeez, it felt as though his heart were about to explode from happiness, and enough energy buzzed through him to tip ten thousand crates of guns into a volcano.  
“I dunno, I’m good like this.” Sam shrugged, but couldn’t keep a grin off his face. He didn’t notice how, when Lucifer looked over at Castiel for a moment, the winged man swallowed and seemed to find wonderful scenery in the floor.  
“You ain’t giving him clothes?” Dean rounded on Lucifer like the protective big brother he was. Even the legendary Pirate King wasn’t safe from chaperone Dean.  
“I would if he’d keep them on.” Lucifer’s tone was pleasant, and he shot them both a smirk, and Sam raised sassy eyebrows.  
“Oh really? You’d be fine if I walked around in a three-piece suit every day then?” With how uncomfortable anything high up on his neck had become, Sam knew it was an empty threat, but he couldn’t just leave the score 1-0.  
“Oh, I would _love_ to see you in a three-piece suit, pet.” Lucifer purred right back and Dean rolled his eyes.  
“Okay, stow the disgusting flirting for later… Cas are you alright?” On the topic of disgusting flirting, Dean moved away from Sam to the black-haired second-in-command, whose eyes were still very much fixed on the floor.  
“I… I should not be here.” Castiel shot a quick glance up at Lucifer’s boots, although more was told through the slight quaver of his voice and the nervous twitch in his wings. Before either Dean or Sam could reply, Lucifer gave a command in the language that the Pirate King had sung to him in earlier, and Castiel stood to attention. The officer replied as the two brothers looked between the pair.

“Hey, that’s the language you spoke when the Battlecruisers were destroyed back at the Shadow Station run.” Dean’s eyes narrowed and he slid a hand into the dip of space between Castiel’s wings. “Do you two…Do you two know each other?”  
“No.” The winged man spat out in a tense hurry, and Lucifer didn’t take his eyes off the shorter man. “I’m – I can’t – I’m sworn to – “  
“Put in terms you might understand, I’m something like a King to Castiel, except far more powerful. More than a king, less than a god.” Lucifer sighed and paced to the left, as the other angel, Sam supposed, stared at the floor again. “There are only two of these ‘Kings’ in existence. I am not…I was removed from their society in a rather forceful way a long time ago, but nothing the other King, nor his Liege Lord could do could strip me of my power. My own Liege Lord fled, I think.”  
  
Lucifer tightened his jaw a little, and those ice-blue eyes went hard as he zeroed in on Castiel, who nodded. Sam stayed dead silent: this is what Lucifer had always been uncomfortable about, and now he seemed ready to talk. The curiosity in the ambassador was even so much that he didn’t try and relax his lover due to the chance it might deter him.  
“Our society has levels of hierarchy, like many others. Castiel is what you might liken to a foot soldier in the ranks. Someone my brothers would use as cannon fodder.” Lucifer paced back toward Castiel and tugged at his own lip, sunken eyes sharp with curiosity over the other man’s ragged wings. “But you deserted the ranks.”  
“I…” Castiel shot a slightly guilty glance in Dean’s direction, then turned back to the floor. “I was put to watch over…a certain area of the Universe, which I came to be invested in far more than I should have been. I decided that I wished to…explore, uh, physical life more, and for that reason I rejected my…the King, and our interplanery nature. ”

Sam would bet his luscious hair that ‘a certain area of the Universe’ might directly translate into Dean Winchester. Lucifer stopped dead and his eyebrows just about hit his hairline as he took in Castiel’s faint blush. Then then older blonde tossed his head back and laughed so hard Sam thought he saw tears. Both Dean and Castiel looked shocked and confused, but Sam grinned with him.  
“You – you – _ahahaha_ – that’s _the most_ shallow thing I’ve – “ Lucifer broke off into gasped hysterics for a moment. “You fell for a hot guy?”  
Castiel’s shabby black wings curled around him, as though to hide him from the shame, and he shot Dean a very guilty look.  
“I…it was more like…yes.” He finished in a small voice, and Sam joined Lucifer in a hearty laugh. Dean glared at them both and tried in vain to peer around the ball over feathers Castiel was slowly becoming.  
“Wait, but I thought you were a Commander from Porada Indama.” Dean frowned, but it didn’t make Castiel’s wings try and less to cover their owner.  
“I forged the information before I became human.” Castiel looked up at Dean with big blue eyes, like a baby griffin that had pushed over a vase or something and knew it had fucked up. “I am sorry.”  
“No, don’t be sorry! I’m kinda flattered actually.” Dean shot the other man a wink, but before they could begin _their_ disgusting flirting, Lucifer stepped in.  
“Would you like to be whole again, brother?” The older blonde cocked his head, and for some reason, Castiel’s eyes widened in fear.  
“I would have to swear allegiance to you.” The Commander swallowed as Lucifer nodded. “But you are…”  
“Evil? The enemy?” Lucifer’s eyes turned cold of a sudden as he advanced on Castiel, and an ancient kind of anger seemed to thrum in the air around him. The other angel’s wings dropped from around him to the ground in submission, and Dean straightened up, ready to defend his boyfriend. 

The Pirate King spoke another few words in that musical language, and Castiel’s jaw worked.  
“Then I have no choice.” The Commander’s gravelly voice was choked, and Sam frowned at Lucifer.  
“Choice? Choice about what?” Dean barked, but something clicked with Sam. Castiel was one of Lucifer’s species, who the Pirate King so desperately avoided. Lucifer had taken the chance that Castiel wouldn’t report him. It was a miracle Lucifer hadn’t killed him the second he stepped out the shuttle into the warded ship, the direct location of Lucifer’s hidden whereabouts. But perhaps if Castiel swore allegiance to Lucifer, he would never be able to report on him or something. 

“Castiel.” Sam put on his gentle ambassador tone, and sent a warning glance at Dean. He stepped between the two aliens, because he’d never seen Lucifer look so irate before, and if things escalated they were sure to get messy. “You want to be our ally, right, you want to oppose the Syndicate?”  
“Yes.” The commander replied with hesitancy, but his eyes still flicked on back over to Lucifer.  
“You want to stay with Dean, and you could even become the being you were before – from my experience that’s something pretty powerful. We could do with an ally like that.” Sam encouraged. He really didn’t have any idea what swearing allegiance entailed, but he hoped the positives outweighed the negatives. “Lucifer isn’t evil or an enemy. He’s just more proactive, like you are, and he will protect you if the others come looking.”

It was reputation all over again. To Castiel, Lucifer was this terrible thing to be feared and hated, just like he had been to Sam in the Syndicate.  
“He saved us, Castiel. He almost gave himself up to your kind for us.” Sam threw in the puppy eyes for good measure, and to his triumph, indecision overrode fear on Castiel’s face.  
“I will be bound to him, Sam. I will not be able to speak of him or his ship…” The Commander’s wings rose a little in some kind of defiance. “And he is…everything we have ever fought, he is evil incarnate!”  
“You – “  
“I thought that too.” Sam interrupted Lucifer’s growl. “And Lucifer worked long and hard to show me that everything I had been taught was wrong. He is worth fighting for and a fair King. Forget the rumours and the gossip and the brainwashing and look at the hard facts. Everything he has done has been for the right reasons. It’s the right choice, even if it might be the only choice.”

Castiel glanced between him and Lucifer for a moment as Dean rubbed his back, but common sense seemed to get the better of him: despite all Sam’s arguments the truth of the matter was that the Commander probably wasn’t going to walk out of here alive without that oath sworn.  
“Alright.” The black-haired alien still looked shaken, but he set his shoulders with his decision.  
“Cas – “  
“No, he’s right.” The Commander turned to Dean with a sigh. “It will be better. And I cannot return to my kind anyway after my other…sins. It will be good to have a brother again.”  
‘Sins’. Sam didn’t have to think hard to figure out what that translated to.

“Good.” Lucifer’s tone still had that dangerous edge, but his eyes were calculative again rather that wrathful. Sam backed out of the way, and the Pirate King stepped up within touching distance of Castiel. “As I have to be disconnected from our plane to maintain a low profile, life will not be like your previous service. I can restore you and energize you, but you will remain in a shell, as you are now. You will need to eat and drink to keep your body healthy, but sleep is the most important – use rest periods to shield your energy from your corporeal form and heal it. If you do not, in my case, I would freeze into a cryo state until my shell was healthy enough to contain me again. For you, your body will simply burn up and you will die. Unless you leave your shell, of course, but then the others will be able to find you.”  
Oh. Sam had just thought Lucifer was a lazy douchebag, but now the Captain’s cool touch, especially when he was woken up or had little sleep made sense. Sam still had a hard time getting his head around the concept that Lucifer was consciousness tied to a ball of energy rather than a man. Not that it would stop him from calling the Captain a layabout though.  
“That sounds dangerous.” Dean frowned in worry and glanced over at his second in command, but Castiel nodded.  
“I already do these things, so the habits should not be hard to maintain.”  
“Then step forward.” Lucifer clasped his hands together and rubbed them just a little, as though he could feel a spark on his skin. The Black Impala’s Commander straightened, braced for something that Sam probably couldn’t fathom, and stepped within Lucifer’s reach. “Sam, when I tell you and your brother to close your eyes, you _must_ do so.”

Sam nodded; Dean looked less convinced as he watched his pretty alien man approach the Pirate King, but nodded too. Lucifer reached a hand forward and pressed his palm against Castiel’s forehead. In that same, odd language as before, the taller blonde spoke what Sam was sure were ritual words of some kind; a question. Castiel replied, and for a minute they both just went through the oath in their own language.

“Lucifer’s really, y’know…decent?” Dean whispered under the angels’ talk and shot another side-eye at Sam’s hot, naked legs in a judgemental kind of way. The ambassador just nodded with what he hoped was a kind of _‘of course??’_ look.  
“Everything he does is for the right reasons, even the bad stuff.” Sam murmured back, and then Lucifer spoke a weighted set of words. Castiel froze, his eyes fixed on Lucifer’s, and as the brothers watched the eyes of both aliens welled with white light. A cry of pain left Castiel’s lips, and all of a sudden his head jerked back as his whole body seemed to flood with it. That sense of primal fear curled in Sam’s gut again, but he swallowed on it and stood staunch, despite every instinct that screamed to _get the fuck out of here._

“Cas – “ Dean started forward as his partner’s cries turned to screams, but Sam lashed forward and caught him around the elbows.  
“Dean, no.” He gritted out as his brother tried to throw him off. It seemed that extra work in the cargo hold gave him the advantage he needed to keep his brother running forward and getting blown up by aliens doing mystical shit. Castiel’s wings shuddered in front of them, and Sam watched in horror as he realized it wasn’t just a motion; scraggy black feathers dropped to the floor in clusters. But to his relief, through the bright light that all but consumed the pair now, he could see glossy black ones push through behind them.  
“Sam, now!” Lucifer yelled over Castiel’s screams. His eye sockets held nothing but light, like Castiel’s. For a moment the black wings on the shorter man wavered as though they were surrounded by intense heat, then they vanished, feathers and all. Although the temptation to just stare at this power, this intense metamorphosis was strong, Sam’s self-preservation instinct kicked in and he squeezed his eyes shut. On an afterthought, he wrestled a hand over Dean’s eyes in case his distraught brother hadn’t heard. 

All of a sudden, Sam’s ears popped with the drop in air pressure that heralded Lucifer’s physical wings. Castiel’s screams snapped off, but a shrill frequency filled the air in its place, so high that Sam pressed his free hand against his ear. That was one of their inter-planary voices, wasn’t it? But whether it was Castiel still screaming, or Lucifer finishing the ritual, Sam had no idea. Even with his eyes shut, blotches of white showed through his lids, and then some sort of silent force punched him in the side. It impacted so hard that he was flung backwards with Dean. The ambassador threw out a blind hand to catch himself as Dean’s shoulder bruised into his chest, but he still kept his hand over his brother’s eyes. Knowing Dean, he’d probably still try to see what was going on despite how stupid the idea was. As soon as it had come, the noise snapped off, and there was a dull thud of a body on the metal floor.

“Alright you two. It’s safe now.” Lucifer’s voice was a little breathless, but before Sam had a chance to look, the air pressure signalled the disappearance of the Captain’s wings again.  
“Damn it Sam!” Dean growled in a tough façade and threw his hand off, although the ambassador could feel they both shook like leaves after that kind of presence. When Sam managed to scramble up behind him, the result of Lucifer’s handiwork was clear; Castiel gasped, curled in the foetal position on the floor, naked as a newborn babe. His wings had vanished, but white glyphs shone on every inch of his skin for a moment, then melted in.  
“What in the Universe did you do?” Dean barked, already on his knees beside his second in command, and glared up at the Pirate King. “Where are his wings?”

Lucifer just cocked his head, and to Sam’s alarm, a whorl of frost danced out of the corner of the Captain’s eye along his crow’s feet.  
“Dean, Dean,” Castiel panted, and clutched backwards to grab Dean’s wrist before the older Winchester could rise again. “It’s ok. I’m ok.”  
“Lucifer…” Sam pressed his hand against the older blonde’s bare bicep, and snatched his hand back with a hiss as it came back so cold it almost burned.  
“It’s alright, Sam.” Lucifer eyes dragged a little bit as they moved from Castiel to him. “I will be needing to rest soon though. Hot food and drink as well.”  
“Anything to get me to slave after you huh?” Sam shot the Captain an amused smile. He wanted to touch his lover, heat him up with his own warmth, but that kind of cold probably needed hypothermia treatment to help the body Lucifer was…inside? Or was it a part of him? The Captain hadn’t left anything behind when he’d become pure light before, and he came back looking the same. Not to mention Sam didn’t know whether he’d stick to Lucifer’s cold skin like a tongue to metal, and that’d be kind of awkward. In front of them, Castiel rose up, completely unashamed of how naked he was. It kind of reminded Sam of how Lucifer had just stripped in front of him to exchange his clothes every night. Perhaps shamelessness was just a quirk of their species, the ambassador thought as he kept his eyes firmly at face level. 

Castiel stood for a moment, then there was a tug of pressure and black wings unfurled from the man’s back. They didn’t stretch in size half as much as Lucifer’s – they more or less seemed proportionate with the human body, whereas Lucifer’s overbore it – and Sam figured that perhaps it was a clue to rank and appearance; Lucifer may well be just a much bigger creature in comparison the Castiel.  
“Dude…” Dean trailed off as Castiel gave the renewed feathers an experimental flap. Something like joy shone in the officer’s eyes as he rose a few inches from the ground and admired his hands as he made them glow a little.  
“Thank you my lord. I shall keep my oath to you.” Castiel nodded voice torn with nerves from probably who he’d just sworn himself to and wonder, and Sam averted his eyes to the Pirate King as the officer’s junk got closer to eye level.  
“Of course.” Lucifer smiled, and although both of them seemed happier, and Sam was certainly happy the tense little situation was solved, he wasn’t keen to get acquainted with Castiel quite this well.  
“Castiel could we…get you some clothes?” Sam squinted back, as it seemed both Lucifer, Dean and Castiel were all a bit too comfortable with this.  
“Oh, says you.” Dean’s eyebrows flew up, but the winged officer looked down as if he had just noticed his uniform was gone.  
“Oh. I shall get some.” Before Sam or Dean could question what Castiel meant, those black wings beat and the man vanished.

“Whoa!” Dean took a step back, and Sam had A Moment until he realized that’s what Lucifer did on occasion, except his wings were invisible.  
“It’s ok Dean, they…do that.” He waved a vague hand at Lucifer; it was odd to see the Pirate Captain look so out of it, but who knew how much power it had taken the being to restore Castiel to his natural form. Sam guessed that because they were inside The Cage, and because Lucifer hadn’t taken his true form (or Dean and himself would be dust), they were safe from detection. But it did mean that Lucifer’s ‘shell’ bore the brunt of his power.  
“O-okay.” Dean swallowed and nodded in the way that said ‘weird but I’ll roll with it.’ “But Sam, you gotta tell me what happened. You’d been gone for a month at least before the Shadow Station Run, and another three months after that…when you first disappeared, we tried to look for you. I tried everything, but I guess Dad knew where you were all along and probably tried to stop me if I got close…”

“Sam, I believe I should go. Go and talk in the briefing room: the crew will not dare touch your brother.” Lucifer seemed to note the indecision on Sam’s face – whether to leave Dean alone for a bit and make sure Lucifer was alright, or stay with his brother on this frankly quite hostile ship. “Sam, I’m a big boy. This isn’t the first time or the worst time I’ve had to look after myself. Go with your brother.”  
“Ok, but I’m gonna turn up the heat in our quarters and order, like, a hundred hot chocolates on the Producer.” Sam unclipped his MD with a frustrated sigh, unhappy about not being able to be there for the Pirate King who’d done so much for him. “If I find you in, like, an ice cube, I’ll stick you in the shower till you defrost.”  
“Comforting thought.” Lucifer snickered, although it wasn’t up there with his usual comebacks. _Must_ be tired. “If you wish to head over to the Impala, Castiel will be able to protect the shuttle from the ion storms out there now.”  
And with that, Sam blinked and the Pirate King was gone.  
There was a flap of wings in the silence, then Castiel appeared back in the hanger beside Dean.  
“Come on then you two.” Sam beckoned with a hand and strode toward the doorway into the rest of the Cage. “Let me tell you a story of Pirates.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyone's back together again! n.n and Cas is back in town (ehehe, get the quote? :P ) They're so wonderful and silly. So, Lucifer's ok, Dean and Sam are reunited, Castiel is angelified again...what could be next? Tbh, I think we only have a few more chapters to go...but I'd love to hear what you thought of this one! You guys' comments are so amazing, so thank you so much for those and for the kudos as well. You inspire me and keep me writing. Stay awesome buddies!  
> *:.｡..｡.:*･'\\(*ﾟ▽ﾟ*)/'･*:.｡. .｡.:*  
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	28. Who Wants to Live Forever?

It took a good few hours to catch up. Sam told them everything, even though Dean and Castiel had seen what details Lucifer had deigned to share with the wider world. The ambassador did get interrupted just a few times when Dean’s anger toward Dad got far too much and he just had to spit out a rant, but Sam finished in the end. Dean then recounted how he’d patrolled the inner and mid reaches as best he could – in a coincidence that now seemed not so coincidental at all, The Black Impala had never been put on patrol over the outer reaches. Dean had sent search droids out there without approval in his frustration though. Some part of Sam still didn’t want to believe what John had done; that he’d killed their mother to raise them to be blinkered soldiers, that he’d sold Sam because of how he was a danger to Syndicate domination, that he’d watched Dean search desperately for his lost brother and done nothing. Sam kind of wondered what Dad would have done if he’d taken the first path Queen Borghild’s gift had presented him with; whether Dad would have had Sam assassinated. In a way, if Sam had left Lucifer then, the Syndicate operation would have gained very little information on the pirates… but the ambassador wouldn’t go back and change it. They’d learned of Dad’s treachery, they’d revealed the Syndicate’s black heart to the occupied star systems and started a revolution – not a small one either. 

Sam already knew he had powerful allies with the Jormjyr, but what he and the pirates hadn’t known was that Dean was so popular enough among the military (on Earth IV especially) that numbers large enough to make full regiments had deserted in search of him. Syndicate media had also repressed the fact that ‘terrorist organizations’ on many planets had really been ‘Syndicate opposed organizations; Sam and Dean’s mother had certainly not been the only one to see the true face that hid under the Syndicate’s mask. So they might have more support than they had first guessed; this ball was ready to roll. With Lucifer back, both The Cage and The Black Impala could return to the mid-inner reaches of the charted star systems under a new camouflage system and then…then this revolution really began, Sam supposed. They could gather Dean’s dedicated militia, make appearances, begin target strategies…

He spent a few extra hours with Dean and Castiel just going over how they should play this out; the Syndicate was strong, but Lucifer and Castiel were stronger than anything the Syndicate could throw at them. The catch was how much power they could use before it attracted more cataclysmic guests. Sam saw it as a game of chess: Dean was a massive power piece to the military, whereas Sam saw himself as a political leader. Neither of them could be seen as terrorists if they wanted to gain mass support – leave that to Lucifer and his pirates. If Sam could harness enough political popularity, and if Lucifer’s occupant aliens infiltrated the Syndicate’s government more extensively, they had a chance to end this fast. But if it came to it, Dean could rally a formidable force, even without pirate help. What they really needed to do was show their faces. They needed to play their roles as inspirers and saviours, and although Sam might have to brush up on Fortune Cookies to truly become Space Jesus, he was positive they could pull this off without bringing inter-plane beings down on their heads or dying to Syndicate hands.

“This isn’t going to be a simple war, is it?” Dean sighed as he looked across their 3D holo-plan Sam had made on his MD.  
“I don’t think war is ever simple, Dean.” Sam spun an interactive display of the charted star systems in the centre of the table as he chewed over where would be the best place to base their operations and make their first appearance.  
“It is simple to soldiers.” Castiel grated with that gravel-soaked voice of his. Sam wondered whether the two of them had a gravelly-voice competition going on or something. “Soldiers /take orders and go without question.”  
“Then it is our job to make them ask questions.” Sam interlaced his fingers, and for a moment the weight of everything they had to do seemed to press down on his shoulders. There would always be that little part of him that wanted to run back to Cantaya Lambda, back to their simple life in the cabin where it had just been him and Lucifer for those few peaceful days. One day, perhaps. One day, when all this was over, they’d go back there and fly over the blue grass and pick fruit with happy aliens. But Sam would fight for that day, he would fight tooth and nail with all the determination in his stubborn Winchester soul. When the Syndicate was his bitch, then he would retire happy. 

“Well, I think that’s all the scheming I can take for one day.” Dean’s uniform squeaked against the Pirate Leatherᵀᴹ chair as he leaned back and stretched his arms until his shoulders popped. “Come over to the Black Impala! Oh Sammy, she so beautiful, you have to see her!”  
Sam wondered how Castiel had even caught Dean’s eye when he got to be inside his true love 24/7.  
“And Charlie and the team are dying to meet my famous rebel brother again – you know how much Charlie likes pirate stories.” Dean tapped the chrome, oval table with excitement, and Sam would be surprised if his vocal chords worked by the end of today’s vehement story-telling sessions.  
“Sounds like a plan.” Sam yawned, and realized he’d been up since 2am, and it was now 7 am. Well he shouldn’t sleep now, or he’d probably find it hard to get his sleeping patterns synced with the D-M shift cycle.

“C’mon then!” Dean practically leapt to his feet at the opportunity to be the most amorous tour guide in the world, and Sam rose as well. “Cas, you do whatever hoodoo it is that’ll keep that nebula from tossing us ten whichever ways.”  
“Dean, I can carry you, your brother and the shuttle to the Black Impala without needing to embark into space.” Castiel said, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.  
“Oh.” Dean looked his Commander up and down as though he might see new bulging muscles or something, as Sam smirked at Dean’s newness to this new bundle of crazy. “A-alright then. Do we have to do anything, like, I dunno, hold our breath against the cold vacuum of space?”  
That earned a snort-laugh from Sam. Oh sweet Universe how he’d missed his blunt-as-a-rock brother.  
“Bend your knees a little, perhaps.” Castiel cocked his head with a little frown, but Sam barely got a chance to obey before two of Castiel’s fingers pressed against his forehead and The Cage vanished.

***

Lucifer came back to himself from sleep when he sensed the bed dip down beside him. The last few months had been so hectic – as a patient, immortal creature, he wasn’t used to things moving so fast and emotions being so raw. He played the long game, the distant game, with confident engagements and detached coolness. And then Sam had come along, had plunged him back into the whirlpool of emotion and sensation, had burst colour and movement into his slow and steady world. This tiny little pebble had started an avalanche which shook the heavens – literally. Lucifer knew that even among his own kind he was only so much as a whisper, a fable to warn others about the consequences of free will. Now they knew he was not only alive, but alive and strong as the day he’d been imprisoned.

They’d pursued him through the stars into the voids of faraway galaxies, comets chasing a star, only to be burned up in his wake, in his strength. All the while, Sam’s voice called in his head, bright with raw emotion amidst the other murmurs that reached him. Then a more worthy opponent had stepped down from their lofty tier; a power that equalled his, and would shake ten galaxies if Lucifer collided with it. Perhaps five months ago, he would have ridden his pride and eager vengeance into battle. But as the planes shifted to accommodate Lucifer’s brother and prior jailkeep, that voice called in his head. _Stay safe,_ it had said. _Come back to me. I’m afraid for you. I love you._  
And so Lucifer had fled with those words cradled within him, in every form and under every scrap of protection he could conjure for himself until the other King and his Liege Lord came to only loose ends. For once in his life, Lucifer had turned his back on revenge and hatred and had clung to something brighter. And he hadn’t regretted it, not once. Not when he’d had to bury himself in the pressing bowels of a lead planet, not when he’d hidden his power in the sick churn of a black hole, not when he lost track of all time and self in the endless void with only Sam’s prayers to anchor him. Because he’d found his way back, and Sam had been there like a lantern on a dark stormy night. How such a little thing could be so bright, Lucifer never understood, but that this bright little thing was his? That was what mattered.

A weary sigh came from the direction of where Sam’s weight pulled at the mattress, and Lucifer forced himself to open is eyes rather than just look with his higher senses. The ambassador was perched on the opposite side of the bed to him, hunched over with his head in his hands. Those broad shoulders looked far too weighed down for a creature so small, and a little dash of concern fled through Lucifer.  
He rose a little off his stomach and eased up behind his mate – Sam seemed so lost in thought that he didn’t notice.  
“Hey.” Lucifer murmured, and Sam jumped at the touch on his shoulder.  
“Sorry, I – I didn’t mean to wake you.” The tall man pushed long chestnut hair out of his line of sight, eyes apologetic. “You feel warm again.”  
“Little bit of sleep works wonders.” Lucifer let a smile tug at his lips; he knew he was just playing into Sam’s sassy hands with that one, so he continued. “You look troubled.”  
Sam just sighed and glanced away again. “I dunno, this whole thing is just…so big. Not just the war, but the political aftermath too. I don’t even know where to _start_ or what to do…I mean, Dean and Cas and I came up with plans and everything, but it just seems…it’s daunting.”

The ambassador slumped a little as he finished, and Lucifer just let his hand wander over the tensed muscles of the man’s back.  
“If you can go from a slave on my ship to a prince of pirates, then you can do this.” Lucifer leaned up and gave the man’s cheek a soft kiss. “I will guide you. Castiel will protect you. Dean will be at your back every step of the way, and you will lead us.”  
“Me? I thought you…” Sam trailed off as he searched Lucifer’s face.  
“The people rally around you. It’s your dove insignia they paint on the walls, not mine.” Lucifer sighed and stroked his human’s silky hair. Sam leaned into the touch, eyes closed, but his handsome features were still tense with worry. “And if I’m too public, my kind will find me. I’m supposed to be a myth, not a reality. Let me fade back into the shadows while you take the spotlight. It’s where you thrive, after all, if that speech to your father was anything to go by.”

Sam let out a long breath, and Lucifer just played with his hair as they sat in silence. The Captain could sense that Sam had more to say, so he just waited and comforted his mate with touch instead of words.  
“I’m…I’m scared.” Sam finally managed out, and his head dipped low as if ashamed to admit it, but Lucifer just slid his arm around the other man’s bare waist.  
“An action is not important unless its possible outcomes scare you. But that’s what true courage is Sammy. Being afraid and still meeting that challenge head on.” He kissed the muscular curve of Sam’s shoulder, then laid his chin there to look into Sam’s pretty hazel eyes. Today they seemed a richer colour, with one or two dots of pale – ochre stars in a sea of sable. “Don’t think of it as a whole picture. Think of it as a meal – one bite at a time to make sure you don’t choke.”  
The corner of Sam’s mouth picked up, and with that the tension seemed to melt out of his face. The ambassador leaned forward a little bit and rested his forehead against Lucifer’s. A bud of warmth blossomed inside the Captain, and he just stayed there, nestled against Sam as they breathed dew onto each other’s skin. It was a kind of comfort he hadn’t experienced, a kind of warmth that didn’t simmer and flare like lust or rage and burn like anger. It was new, and he just wanted to drink it in for all eternity.

“Did you come up with that off the top of your head, or did you read it on a fortune cookie?” Sam grin was almost on Lucifer’s lips. He just had to break the moment by being a little sassy shit, didn’t he?  
“I’m surprised you know about fortune cookies, given your severe lack of education on pennies.” Lucifer grinned back, and his laugh was caught by Sam’s lips.  
“We still have fortune cookies you know – the ones where you bite into it and a ghost hologram of some wizened Asian elder bursts out of it and gives you a one-liner?” The tall man snickered and leaned across to smooth Lucifer’s stubble with a warm hand.  
“Well I would have never guessed that the one thing humans clung on to out of everything was the novelty of prophetic baked goods.” That earned a laugh, and Lucifer let Sam lower them back down on to the bed, but there was no lust in the motion; the big man just crawled on top of him, and Lucifer wrapped his arms around that muscular back as Sam laid his head on Lucifer’s chest with a contented hum. The Pirate King definitely had to agree with the Cantayals on this one – sleeping in a warm pile was so much better than sleeping alone.

“So how was your brother’s ship?” Lucifer couldn’t be bothered to shift Sam’s warm, solid body off him, so he flipped the side panel beside his bed open with a thought and made the bottle of oil he’d used once before on an angry, sore Sam snap into his hand.  
“Tch, Dean was lovestruck. You could see the jealousy in Castiel’s eyes.” Sam grinned against his chest, teeth dazzling white in the dim light. Sam must have a cybernetic to keep those teeth so pearly white. “Mm, oh thank you.”  
Lucifer’s stomach jumped with a quick huff of laughter as he dragged his oil-slick hands over the knots in Sam’s back. Being pressed up against Sam like this was the best thing in the Universe. Better than revenge on his brother, that was for sure.  
“Dean has this friend called Charlie – I only met her like, once, but she squeezed the lungs outta me with a hug and then insisted I tell her my ‘swashbuckling tale’” Sam made his best attempt at finger quotations while horizontal. “I told her you had horns and a fake leg in the shape of a goat hoof, and that whenever you were happy you exclaimed ‘Devil be praised’ in a broad burrish accent.”  
“You little shit.” Lucifer raised an eyebrow, and repurposed his well-placed hands to find the sensitive ridges of Sam’s ribs.  
“Ahh! Fuck you!” Sam yelped through helpless laughter and tried to squirm off him, but Lucifer just hooked a leg around his lover’s thighs and held him in place. “Ahh, mercy, mer – ahahaha, nooo!”

The adorable little thing managed to slither half his torso off Lucifer and smacked at the hands that chased him as high giggles broke out his throat.  
“Someone’s gotta make up more ridiculous rumours about you!” Sam managed through panted laughter.  
“Mm.” Lucifer let a sly smile creep on to his lips – he wasn’t at all angry, but if Sam wanted to play the rumour game, oh it was on. “I’m sure I can come up with something equally fun to spread about you, Messiah of the Stars.”  
“You fucking wouldn’t.” Sam seemed to trust that Lucifer’s hands weren’t about to go for his ribs again, and the ambassador slid back on top of him with tentative movements.  
“You think I can’t make the sky open with Heavenly light or make a dove alight on your shoulder?” Lucifer raised his eyebrows at the tanned brunette who’d propped his chin up on folded hands across Lucifer’s chest, and the Captain resumed his massage. “I could make a religion out of you if you push your luck.”  
“You better not say that with Dean and his ego around or else you’ll be getting love MD’s from the wrong brother.” Sam smiled. His dark eyes sparked with amusement as the rise of his powerful shoulders framed him. The curls of Sam’s uncut hair coiled into the dips of his collarbone, brushed his strong jawline and glimmered like the oil on the man’s bronze skin. Something dropped in Lucifer’s chest, right down to his gut as he drank in the sight. This was the creature he wanted to see beside him in hundreds of billions of years when this galaxy crumbled to dust. These features, these curves and swells of muscle, this nut-brown hair and those lively eyes that teased and softened and burned with every different moment. The sensation was as horrific as it was perfect; to yearn for something with such desperation, in his experience, only led to disappointment and pain when the whim passed. But on the other hand, nothing had gripped him like Sam did with his every breath. Like Sam was a piece of him he never knew existed, and to ever lose that would be like losing a limb.

“What?” Sam’s eyebrows worried into a frown, and Lucifer realized his hands had glued themselves in one spot mid-motion.  
“I…” For a rare moment, fear clogged his throat. What if Sam balked at the idea? If Sam said no…but the question was going to come up eventually if this feeling was as strong and sincere as Lucifer believed it to be. “I think I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”  
For a moment Sam’s eyes flew so wide that it was almost comical, and then he broke out into the most blinding grin Lucifer had seen from the man yet, but it didn’t settle the swirl of nervous energy.  
“Like marry you? Are you asking me to marry you?” Sam sprang back onto his haunches and laughed, something light and bright and full of happy disbelief. But in his joy, Lucifer knew the human hadn’t seen the whole picture.  
“No, Sam.” The Captain sighed, reached up and ran the heel of his thumb over Sam’s evening shadow. The ambassador’s grin faltered, and melted into confusion. “I’m asking you to sail the stars with me for an eternity.”  
  
The sentence hung between them in the silence of Sam’s realization, and for the first time in a long time, Lucifer saw a flit of fear cross Sam’s eyes. It was reasonable, no matter how much Lucifer’s belly curled at the sight – ‘forever’ was a lifespan Lucifer had spent many years trapped and alone to come to terms with. For Sam, such a small thing, an eternity of living was a fate worthy of fear.  
“I…” Sam trailed off, eyes torn, but seeing the pretty alien struggle between wanting to make Lucifer happy and such a permanent doom softened the anxiety within the older being.  
“You don’t have to answer now. Take years if you need to. With your experience of me, you should know I’m nothing if not patient.” Lucifer stroked a finger over those soft lips, and eased his other hand up Sam’s muscular thigh. “I just needed to say that before I convinced myself not to.”  
“Thank you.” Sam breathed and a soft smile spread over his face again. “Thank you for understanding, it’s just…a lot to consider. But you’re right to ask before I become a doddery old man.”

There was the pretty smile Lucifer loved so much, even though the words conjured up something too bittersweet for him to dwell on right now. So instead, he nudged Sam’s head back toward him. The ambassador dipped down, compliant under his hands until their lips met in a slow, indulgent kiss. One of Sam’s hands dragged through Lucifer’s hair, and the other squeezed his shoulder as their bodies moulded together and their mouths explored without restraint. The heat between them suddenly became heavy, needy and laced with pleasure, two lovers with worries that they wanted to drown out in each other’s touch.  
“Mmm, why do you have to wear so many – mm – clothes in bed?” Sam managed out around Lucifer’s famous tongue.  
“Just in case – “ Lucifer tangled his fingers deep into Sam’s hair and pulled him in for an even more intimate kiss. “ – a fleet of Syndicate battlecruisers – mm – “ He grunted as Sam’s lust-swollen cock dragged against his own. “ – decide to jump me and my ship in my sleep.”  
“Too bad, ‘cause I’m gonna make a mess out of them. And you’re fucking washing your own clothes this time.” Sam rolled his hips in earnest now, astride Lucifer’s lap, and the heat friction had the Lucifer’s cock rubbing slick against his pants. Neither of them were in the mood for the preparation and slowness of penetrative sex – just quick, easy pleasure.  
“You really have to work – “ Lucifer hissed as his hand on Sam’s perky ass ground the side of other man’s cock something sweet against the base of him. “ – on your definition of dirty talk.”  
Sam just gasped into his neck, and his hips got frantic as he dry-fucked Lucifer’s hip-bone. Lucifer didn’t even care that their rhythms were out of sync, he just grappled Sam’s oil-slick, hot body against him and rubbed himself on that thick length until the heat that raged in his groin burst out of him with a satisfied moan. Sam came a moment later with a helpless stutter of his hips and a gutted noise into Lucifer’s neck. Mmm. Not mindblowing, but sometimes something quick and wild just hit the spot.

“Ugh. Shower?” Sam eased himself up on to both hands after a moment or two of blissful breathing, and his sweat-damp hair hung down like a mane. A line of come from where his shorts hadn’t quite been tight enough slid down to the man’s belly button, and it took a great deal of willpower for Lucifer not to let himself start round two right there. “And then sleep. I must have been awake for, stars, almost twenty hours.”  
Lucifer blinked for a second as that reminded him of something he couldn’t believe he’d forgotten. “Mm, you better be well rested, because I’ve got a surprise for you tomorrow.”  
“What, even more surprising than luring me out into space, exploding Cas and proposing to me?” Sam sat back with a yawn, and Lucifer couldn’t help a snigger.  
“Don’t worry about it for now. You’ll see tomorrow.” He gave Sam his most mysterious smile, then decided he better get his lover in the shower before the man collapsed from exhaustion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoo, fun times! n.n Sorry I didn't cover the Impala tour, but I just wanted to move the story on, y'know? But Lucifer's got a surprise in store for Sam...I wonder what that could be ;) But as always, I'd love to hear what you thought of the chapter, about Sam's decision, the rebellion and all that n.n Your comments make my day, and it's so incredible to hear from people I've inspired, or made emotional or who simply really enjoyed reading! You're all so amazing and it's wonderful to write for y'all n.n Stay awesome my homies, I know you will! ･:*:･ﾟ☆ｄ(≧∀≦)ｂﾟ+.ﾟｲｲ
> 
> If you'd like to support me, you can [check out my novel](https://www.kobo.com/nz/en/ebook/tea-in-the-outback) or [shout me a drink!](https://www.paypal.com/cgi-bin/webscr?cmd=_s-xclick&hosted_button_id=TT3Q6W95QFSM2) ^.^


	29. The Silent Planet

“What’s this about?”  
Sam was just as curious as Dean as the pair of them and Lucifer took a seat at the briefing table, a mirror of yesterday’s revolution talks. Lucifer had let him sleep off the excitement of yesterday, but had left a note on Sam’s MD to contact him when he woke. Sam had sent Lucifer the message, and made it to the bridge just in time to see the Pirate King arrive with his brother, who’d been doing his best not to look like a kitten picked up by the scruff of its neck.  
“You two have some family business to attend.” Lucifer looked between them, but his eyes weren’t playful. There was something heavy and almost bitter in them, and that had Sam’s instincts sharpen into alertness. “In my culture, if a relative is wronged by a relative, justice is dealt within the family. If they do not wish to, they default to the Liege Lords and Kings for justice. Because of these traditions, I didn’t think it was my place to kill your father.”

“He’s alive?” Sam swallowed and shared a glance with Dean. His brother’s eyes hardened to flint, face a stiff mask. Oh, Dean was pissed. But because John was alive, or because Lucifer had left it up to them to decide what to do with him?  
“He’s stored somewhere safe for now. I – “  
“Take us to him.” Dean growled, and a burn of pressure pushed on Sam’s chest as this fresh, resurrected problem tore at him. Lucifer was correct; it hadn’t been his place to kill John, but it had been easy. Sam would be lying if he said that he’d mourned their father’s death, and it would be hypocritical to say that he was pleased with someone else having John’s blood on their hands, but loth to commit the act himself.

“Sam?” Lucifer’s steady blue gaze found him, and Sam knew the Pirate King could see his struggle.  
“What will happen when we see him, Dean?” He turned to his brother instead, stomach in a heavy knot. “We can’t let him go. You know that. To prison or back to the Syndicate.”  
“Exactly.” Dean splayed his hand on the chrome table as his jaw worked. “He’s our father, Sam. Our problem. We can’t let anyone else get hurt because of him.”  
“You’re talking about killing him, Dean!” Sam knew he shouldn’t defend his father, but after all Sam had done, after all the Syndicate lives he’d taken, there was still some of that Ambassadorial Training hardwired into his system that wanted to save people, no matter how he wanted to dismiss it.  
“And we’re talking about the man who let you be sold as a slave, knowing that you’d most likely be chopped up for meat, you said it yourself!” Dean barked back, and of course he was right. But it just felt so cold. In battle, like the 6,000 crew on the Syndicate ships he’d destroyed, that was a lighter weight on his conscience. But their defenceless father? “Not to mention all the planets he’s put under military regime for the Syndicate. You saw – on Cantaya, with Pjantra… I saw the footage. I was _educated_ by what you saw. I realized that half the planets I served on were missions to suppress or subjugate! Why are you suddenly defending him?”  
“You’re right. I know.” Sam let out a sigh that seemed to drain his body of strength and rubbed his eyes for a moment. Why Lucifer had said ‘surprise’ last night, this had by no means what Sam had expected. Surprise, you get to kill your dad.

“If you ask me to, I’ll handle it. Perhaps I was blinded by my own code of conduct. It would have made it easier for you.” Lucifer’s eyes appeared gentle, but the intelligent killer in him glinted through his expression, like a cold river beneath a façade of bright autumn leaves. Despite the warmth they shared Sam wasn’t blinded to the merciless creature Lucifer could be; perhaps it still unnerved him to see it because there was a reflection of himself in that calculative mirror. “It’s not weak or cowardly to have compassion. But sometimes it is impractical.”  
“It’s cowardly to send someone to deal with the problems you don’t want to face, though.” That was it. This was the first step into the cutthroat world of a revolution, to be the leader of one especially. To decide who to kill or sacrifice when, where and why, to see the bigger picture from an objective eye rather than on a personal scale. Perhaps this was purposeful on Lucifer’s behalf, and perhaps it was a bridge Sam needed to cross, but it was never going to be a fun one.

“We should go to him.” He snapped himself away from his thoughts and stood before he could convince himself otherwise, although that anxious cloy of nerves pressed inside him.  
“Finally!” Dean leapt to his feet with an eye-roll as Lucifer took them both in.  
“Mm, first things first.” The older blonde pointed a finger at Sam. “As gorgeous as you are with those delightful shorts, pretty thing, where you’re going you’ll need some cover.”  
Despite the circumstances, heat trickled up to his cheeks at the blatant admiration and pet name from his lover in front of Dean, but Lucifer didn’t give him a chance to answer; the Captain pushed a panel on the wall that revealed a Clothing Synthesizer. That explained their Syndicate uniforms for Cantaya.  
“And I can’t stay with you on the planet. My Admiral Lilith – the one whose ship the Syndicate destroyed in the Adion System – needs her new ship warded.” Lucifer tapped something – probably Sam’s slave or crew ID to get his size – into the Synthesizer.  
“Didn’t…didn’t they die?” Dean frowned, and Sam cocked his head in agreement. Could the occupants survive in space naturally? Then again, thinking about it, The Cage didn’t have spacesuits. Not one, unless they were in secret wall panels too. Maybe he should have thought about spacesuits before he jumped out an airlock, but Sam supposed he _had_ been woken up at 2am by his lost lover, so common sense hadn’t had time to get a grip.

“Oh, the bodies they are contained in were destroyed by plasma, but their essence survived.” Lucifer turned back to them and eased down on the tabletop to wait for whatever likely semi-erotic outfit Sam would be press-ganged into this time.  
“Essence?” Dean turned to Sam, eyebrows furrowed in confusion, and it dawned on the ambassador that Lucifer had left Ruby’s exchange out of the published Sam Diaries as well. That had been a smart move; people would be less likely to trust Sam’s supporters if they knew Lucifer had occupant aliens in his charge. Then again, on some accounts, those fears would probably be founded. “Are they like you?”  
“Well I am their father.” Lucifer smirked, and Dean raised his eyebrows in Sam’s direction.  
“Oh no, don’t look at me like that. I may be Space Jesus, but I’m no miracle-birth Mary.” Sam held his hands up as Lucifer, the douchebag, snickered.  
“Well at least you’ve finally accepted your title.” Dean shot him a perky smile, and Sam wondered how he’d managed to end up with two assholes as his closest friends.  
“Dean, could you Produce you and your brother a litre canteen of water each?” Lucifer got up again as the Synthesizer plopped out a folded square of white clothes. Oh, of course. “And Sam, try these for size.”

***

It turned out white was a logical choice of colour, not an aesthetic one. In a blink of an eye, Lucifer brought them to the dunes of the most vivid desert Sam had ever seen in his life. Rich purple sand rolled in wind-grooved undulations around them under a deep blue sky. Pearly white blobs, all feet taller than a human but of different widths, dotted the purple ripples like silent standing stones. Sam assumed they were some kind of rock or fungi.

The three of them stood on a kind of sand-plateau beside a smooth, russet-skinned tree. But even in the shade, the heat from the dark sand cloyed in a blanket around them that had been thrown down from the distant white sun. One of the pale blobs was only a few paces away, and its surface reminded Sam of a soaked tapioca pearl, with an opaque layer that encased the inner milky one. Its bulbous shape glinted in the sunlight, and Sam thought that it might somehow be slick to the touch, even in this ferocious heat.  
“One moment.” Lucifer paced toward the white object, and before they could ask which solar system they were even in, thrust a bare arm into the thing. It rippled and gave like jelly around him, and with a sucking noise that had Dean wince in disgust and exchange a shared glance of bewilderment with Sam, Lucifer dragged out the dark shape of their dad. He gasped as Lucifer tossed him on to the sand with an unsympathetic movement, but John seemed unable to scramble upright.

“I’ll be on my way then. You know how to call me when you need me.” Lucifer pressed Dad’s gun into Sam’s hand before he even knew what it was – both he and Dean had tensed up, fixed like alert cats on the man on the brilliant, dark sand. “If you need to, just put him back in a kikvkyax. It’s like a natural stasis pod.”  
Lucifer rubbed his shoulder then gave it a quick kiss against the material of his new desert robes. Both the words and the gesture comforted Sam a bit; he was glad that was an option. The ambassador nodded his thanks, then squared his shoulders as he turned back. Lucifer strode off behind them, toward the tree again. The soft _shhf_ of footsteps on the sand cut off mid-step, and that was it – Sam, Dean and John were alone on this empty, lucid planet. 

John had just managed to recover, climb back to his feet, when Dean marched forward. His fist connected with Dad’s bearded cheekbone in a sick smack that snapped through the wind-hushed silence.  
“Start talking.” Dean barked as he stood over their father who toppled back onto the sand with a grunt.  
“Dean – “ Sam started forward in an aborted movement to do…he didn’t know. He didn’t know what to do, and it curdled in him.  
“No Sammy.” Dean rounded on him with a hard finger in his direction. “You didn’t wait for weeks and weeks worrying that the next morning there’d be a report of your body found, that you’d see your beaten and mangled face on the goddamn news. I did. I searched and searched, I went out of my _mind_ Sam, and all the time he knew. He could have told me, but he watched me suffer like he watched you suffer. So start talking!”

Dean rounded back on Dad, who’d regained his feet again, dark hair and navy admiral uniform dusted with royal purple.  
“What do you want me to say, son? I had my orders, I did my job. And look how it turned out.” John implored between them. “Nobody died, nobody got hurt. We got valuable pirate intel – “  
“Did you kill mom.” Dean gritted out, as Sam’s heart hardened a little at ‘nobody got hurt’. John had never understood how not all pain was physical, and it seemed Dean had hurt every minute Sam was gone. Dean had grieved for years after mom died; despite the brave front he put on for Sam, despite the bad jokes and bravado, Sam had seen him suffer in the bottom of a bottle and in the blood on a punching bag. Despite what Sam had been through, the initial pain and horror and the ache for the comfort of his brother… John had hurt Sam. Used him. Violated his privacy and could have been his murderer. But John had broken Dean from the inside out. Sam wasn’t the one who flinched when Dad rapped a hand on the table. Sam wasn’t the one who tried to please and please just for everyone to be happy and get along. Sam wasn’t the one who always prioritized himself last. Could he really deny his brother this now? For Dean to put himself and what he wanted first? 

“Dean, it isn’t that simple.” Dad held up his hands in a kind of surrender, but Dean circled him as the admiral moved forward – he knew the military tricks, and Sam wouldn’t put it past John to try and take Dean’s gun, then hold them hostage for a ticket off this planet.  
“Oh I think it is. Did you kill mom, yes or no?!” Dean yelled, a coarse sound that echoed in the hollow, stuffy air, and in a flash of a movement, his plasma pistol was pointed at John.  
“Dean…the Syndicate took measures to ensure the both of you were safe. That planet was unstable. Dangerous.” Dad should have gone for a job in politics with how many straight answers he ducked.  
“Dad, this might be the last chance in your _life_ to be an honest man.” Sam clenched his teeth as his father’s dark eyes darted between them. Then again he’d never been much of a father; mom had raised them, then dad had thrown them into barracks when he first got the chance. “I know what you said to me, so be honest with Dean.”  
“Boys, you’re my sons. You have to believe that what I did, I did for your good.” Dad tried a weak smile, as if a hug and a drink together would right all his wrongs. Dean kept his gun up with his right hand, and without taking his eyes off the man in front of them, reached for the chain around his neck; the twin of the one Sam had lost to the slavers – well, the Syndicate agents. When he retrieved the cube, Dean lit up the holopic of the pirate ship with a small press of his thumb.

“Y’know, I’ve looked at this holopic for years.” Dean’s mouth twisted around the words, and Sam just watched on. Dean needed this. In fact, he’d needed a confrontation with Dad for a long time, even though he might not have known it himself. “I know every panel, every bolt, every gun on this thing like the back of my hand. And every time I looked at it, _every time_ , I swore that I would kill the bastards who dumped plasma on my home so badly that all I could find of mom was black dust. Readings could barely even make out what was human and what wasn’t.”  
A tear spilled down his brother’s cheek, from rage, from grief, Sam had no clue, and he itched to comfort him. Dean hadn’t even let him go into the mangled ruins of what had been their home that day. Sam had just sat on the grass in shock, with numb tears coating his cheeks as Dean vanished, then returned. One shake of his head was all his big brother could manage, and they’d just sat huddled together, gutted by loss, until the Syndicate ship had descended like a saviour from above. There was a cruel irony in that.

“And now I find that the person I swore to kill is the father I swore to serve.” Dean’s voice dropped lower, dragged in a gritty mess across his vocal chords. John’s expression had faded back into a plea, desperate now that he could see the family appeal wasn’t working in his favour. “Sammy, take a walk.”  
“Dean, I’m not going anywhere.” Sam couldn’t let Dean take this on his shoulders alone. Not again.  
“Dammit, you’re my little brother, and I’m gonna protect you from as much as I can – this included.” Another tear slipped down Dean’s cheek, but Sam didn’t budge one inch. His own hand was ready by the gun Lucifer had given him in case John tried anything. Cornered, with nothing to lose, was a man at his most dangerous.  
“Look boys, we can talk about this.” Dad backed away, but Sam supposed there was a reason Lucifer had given them a desert; nowhere to run, nowhere to hide.  
“No Dean. I have your back. I’ll always have your back. We’re brothers, and I’m with you whatever happens.” Sam ignored Dad as his own heart thundered through his chest and his skin sweltered in the heat.  
“Fine. This is for mom, you son of a bitch.” 

Two things happened: John surged forward for the gun, and Dean pulled the trigger. By the time Sam leaped forward to wrestle Dad if need be, the purple sand was soaked black with blood. Dean just let the gun fall, and stared as he fought more tears at the corpse of the man who’d wronged them so badly, but now seemed so small and sad with a crimson starburst in the centre of his forehead. One of John’s eyes had exploded with the heat, the other a reddened, grotesque bulge; but if this was to haunt Dean’s nightmares, then it would haunt Sam’s too. The horror and guilt wasn’t on Dean alone. 

As they stood in mute shock, the sand sank around John’s body; a slow, trickling maw. Sam managed to snap to himself enough to drag Dean back by the shoulders in case it was quicksand, or some alien feeder, but nothing came toward them, nor did the dip of sand spread. Then a little red tendril wisped through the white glob, the kikvkyax. As the brothers watched in mesmerized, almost horror-struck silence, the white swirled and was consumed, until the bulbous shape thrummed bright red, like a tick or mosquito swollen with blood. Why, Sam didn’t know, but he didn’t want to look at it any longer.  
“C’mon Dean.” He finally managed in a rough voice, as they still stared, transfixed at the almost luminous alien thing. “C’mon.”  
He pulled at Dean’s arm, but his brother just walked forward a little, then stooped to pick up the gun.  
“Yeah. I say let’s get the hell outta dodge.” The Battlecruiser Captain gave the smooth, soundless red globule in front of him one final look, then turned his back on it.

 

They sat in silence under the russet tree for a good ten minutes before Lucifer came. The soft hush of the wind in the sand, the cool water from their canteens, and the rolling panorama of colour soothed the shock in the headiness of the heat. Sam knew Dean wouldn’t want to talk – he never did want to talk about anything deep and emotional, but Sam wasn’t blind. Over all the years, he’d become accustomed to reading Dean’s body language, no matter how his brother prided his ‘pokerface’. And after a while, Dean stretched out his legs. Tapped probably some weird old rock song out on the sand. Looked around with eyes that saw rather than with eyes that had flown off somewhere Sam couldn’t see. It had been enough. He’d stayed by his brother’s side, and it had been enough. 

Lucifer’s request from last night thickened in Sam’s throat as he sat beside the brother who had always been his constant companion. If he took Lucifer’s offer, if he became immortal, he’d have to watch his brother wrinkle, go grey, lose his speech and memory. He’d watch his older brother wither, then become as silent and empty as Dad had been laid out on the sand. Dean would die, and Sam would have to bury him with young hands. But if he chose to live his natural lifespan, that was what Lucifer would have to go through. To watch the only thing he’d truly loved bend, then finally break under the passage of time. To know he had the power to save Sam and preserve him, but rendered unable to do so. Why would anyone want to live forever, Sam thought. _Alone_ , another part of his head added. Why would anyone want to live forever _alone?_  
He didn’t have to make that decision yet. That was a comfort. But despite all the decisions that seemed to loom in his future, this one seemed the most painful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this planet freaks me the fuck out D: I don't know why, but it really does. Tell me what _you_ thought of it! And the whole John business. Things are not all lollipops and rainbows in the Winchester family. Also Sam's immortal dilemma - do you think he'll say yes or no? c:  
>  One more chapter to go! I can't believe it! :o  
> On another note, if you're a writer and you'd like some coaching by me, check out my [writing workshops!](https://www.patreon.com/Hadeswriting) I'd love to share my knowledge with you ♡ Open for a week, maybe two n.n  
> You all get early access for being so awesome!  
> And as always, thank you all so much for your comments and kudos. You always make me smile, and it's so wonderful to hear from you all. Stay awesome buddies!


	30. The Death of Sam Winchester

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Omgggg it's the end! I hope you enjoy!!! （*/o＼*）

Two and a half years. Two and a half years was all it took to win the war. Lucifer’s motto was to always move fast, rally quickly, secure victories and inspire followers before people lost interest. And it worked. The outer reaches fell into their hands the quickest, then, with the Jormjyr and their other gained allies by their side, Sam and his pirates took the mid reaches. The core of the Syndicate fought for all their worth, but they never really stood a chance: Lucifer’s own pirates were as untraceable and unpredictable as ever. Dean’s military deserters knew Syndicate secrets all too well – the allied forces moved far too quickly for the Syndicate to reform their ways radically enough to be unpredictable. Where flesh and blood couldn’t get, Lucifer’s occupant aliens infiltrated with ease; they poisoned the Syndicate from the inside while Dean battered it from the outside. And then there was Castiel. 

Lucifer could not leave his ship or use a great deal of power, but under Lucifer’s command, Castiel was an indestructible force. He could fly anyone anywhere, drag a ship behind enemy lines, cut communications, destroy food supplies. No, he couldn’t quite nuke an armada like Lucifer had, and he had to be careful with his power usage, but his teleportation was handy enough. Sam and Dean owed him their lives on several counts of assassination attempts, simply because he could move faster than a plasma bolt. The Syndicate couldn’t counter it; not Castiel, not the occupant aliens, nor the speed at which the allied forces moved - the inner reaches had been taken in a month. When the ball started rolling, Sam’s forces were nigh unstoppable. But gathering followers, that’s where the years had come in with a very careful game of balance.

Sam could never be seen with Lucifer, (despite the footage from his slavery visuals) simply because Lucifer was a pirate. Lucifer had killed thousands of Syndicate members, and still did; he did the dirty work that Sam, as the saving face of the charted star systems, could not be affiliated with. Sam had to be this pure, untouchable icon, a figurehead to outshine the fires behind him. He always arrived with Dean and returned to Dean’s ship. He talked about inspiration, freedom and peace while he let Syndicate garrisons be torn apart and lynched on mid-reaches planets by occupant alien instigators. Any questions about Lucifer he deflected, saying their moral codes had clashed too strongly for them to see each other again, when in reality Lucifer made love to him or held him or talked to him every night. So Sam lied. He built up the ‘saviour’ persona around himself so thickly that even Dean started to wonder how much Sam believed his own press talk. 

The Cage crew were never deceived though. They knew how Sam agreed with Lucifer that any Syndicate host of an occupant alien had to be killed after the occupant alien had departed to keep the nature of Lucifer’s crew a secret. They heard the pair discuss which planets to cut off from Syndicate traders and starve – then Sam would go out to the people and tell them it was Syndicate blackmail, and ‘save’ them with the raided food. They knew Sam approved of how Lucifer hunted down every last, remaining Syndicate loyalist and culled them, made them disappear so no underground groups could be reformed. Nobody but the crew of the Cage saw Sam Winchester dance this bloodthirsty dance with the Devil and manipulate everything he touched into his own hands. This human slave they’d one jeered at and hoped to slake their lust on now chilled them to the bone, because he wasn’t just a puppet, or a ditzy, pretty face for the media. Sam wore a hundred faces and knew exactly which one to wear when. He had all the right answers and the right words to fit any situation. He was clinical, clean and logical. But above all, people _loved_ him. People loved the white ambassador robes they couldn’t see were soaked in blood. They loved those dewy, soft eyes that had looked the other way so many times, and the people hung on to his every word, his every lie. There was a kind of glory about his perfect deception. 

But in turn, only Lucifer saw how Sam broke down over the lives he couldn’t save. He hushed Sam, and stroked him with his feathers as the little human decried what he’d become, pleaded for Lucifer to just end this damn war so he could just be free from the weight of the disguise he wore, begged Lucifer to just carry him far away from all of this. The Pirate King took him to fly on suns until his bright thing smiled and strode back to work with his shoulders set and eyes fixed on the dream of peace again. Sam’s stubborn determination kept Lucifer restrained from fulfilling Sam’s pleas spoken in tears, and Lucifer’s care kept Sam determined; they were each other’s strength, and it won the war. But toward the end of those years, came the next step, the one they had to brace hard for; governments could be thrown down _overnight_ and still solve nothing. Sam couldn’t just leave the shattered Syndicate Empire to crumble in on itself into chaos. But a political reform wasn’t something that would take a couple of years. An Empire of planets wasn’t something that could be organized quickly. It would take a lifetime. At the first meeting of the Allied Planets, it sank into Sam’s stomach that he might never touch that dream of personal peace and rest on Cantaya Lambda.

 

“Welcome to the first council of the Allied Peaceful Planets.” Sam announced from the Head Speaker’s Globe of Earth VI’s Parliament Discussion Hall. “As you all may know, I am Sam Winchester, First Ambassador and Leader of the Allied Planets Movement. We are here to discuss the reformation and organization of planetary alliance throughout the charted star systems. Greetings also to those representatives who cannot make it in person; your voices shall be heard nonetheless.”  
The Parliament Discussion Hall was laid out as a field of clear Globes in front of a building-high main display screen that showed the current speaker. Each personal Globe contained translators, display screens and an array of colour commands: If an occupant wished to raise their voice or ask a question, they could light their Globe up blue. If an occupant agreed with a certain statement, they could light up green, or red for disagreement. Sam had no idea how the ancient courts had worked where everybody could speak at once over one another. If someone wished to add an immediate statement to another speaker’s words here, they could light up yellow, and add a written message to the screens the speaker was featured on, or be invited by the speaker to pitch in. It had always been Sam’s dream to speak here, but even with his years’ experiences with audiences of varying levels of hospitality, the sheer numbers here daunted him. Instead of a hundred or so Globes, the usual court size, thousands floated in the chamber Space.

“I have come forward from discussions with the Allied War Council to put forth the suggestion of reforming our systems into a Republic. The people and their elected representatives will ideally hold power in a council and bring forth all concerns and suggestions the Allied Planets can address.” Sam glanced over at the two Jormyr monarchs, side by side in their Globes. Their wisdom and direction had been invaluable, although he suspected they might become impatient with how long this process might take – if Sam was dealing with a galaxy of Jormyr, this might get done in an hour. Or end in bloody war. It seemed to be a fifty fifty with the wise but hotheaded aliens. But the amount of races here…  
“Discussion may now formerly begin.” Sam took a seat, and groaned internally as a sea of clear Globes turned blue. Fortunately, the Allied War Council was large – Sam didn’t have to deal with every question himself (although he was the leader, and would probably have to get involved with other cases) – but this was still going to take a very long time. Not days, not weeks, not months but _years._

They’d split the massive main display screen into six segments that cycled every 30 seconds – speakers in their Globe could tune in to whichever discussion they chose and assign their colour responses to it. When the Allied War Council had sorted through the questions, and found the main issues to discuss, more Parliamentary Meetings would take place to address them and so on and so forth until they had solutions. For now, Sam knew he held something of an autocratic power, but that couldn’t last forever. Yes, while he lived the system would be safe, but when he was gone, things would dissolve into (even more) chaos again. It was his duty to make the galaxy a better place for future generations, even if he gave his life to the cause. With a heavy sigh, Sam pressed the ‘Respond’ button in his Globe, and the face and name of a representative with a question popped up on his display screen. Shoo Uluk from Quoy in the mid reaches.  
“Sam Winchester.” The translator device accused. “Your father used the military to rule and terrorize the charted star systems. Now _you_ have massive military power and control. Why should we trust you won’t do the same?”

And that was how his day went:  
“I find it suspicious that all Syndicate Loyalists have mysteriously disappeared! Is it that weapon of mass destruction the pirates used on the Syndicate Fleet? Or are they amassing underground?”  
“How will Alliance Plans be decided where DC 1-5 Planets are involved?”  
“Rich representatives will just pay off citizens to vote for them! This will be as good as an aristocracy!”  
“We need trading routes reinstated immediately! Planets relied on Syndicate trade!”  
“What is Lucifer like? Is he as hot as he looked in the feed? Can he grow horns? Asking for a friend.” (That was a weird one.)  
By the end of it all, Sam’s throat hurt from talking, his muscles ached from lack of movement, and blue dots popped up on his eyelids when his closed them. They hadn’t even gotten through half of the questions today, and more rose by the minute. He was almost glad when someone asked the same question over again, and he could refer them to a prior video that addressed the topic.

 ***

“Dean. Castiel. Briefing aboard the Impala.” Sam groaned into his MD in fatigue. The planet representatives had returned to their quarters for now; what the aliens didn’t know was that the eye of a nigh all-powerful, primordial being watched them from an invisible pirate ship in orbit. If the races started to cause trouble with each other, Sam would know and dispatch security. It tired Lucifer out, but hell, Extreme Politics tired _Sam_ out. They were all going to be drooling shells by the end of this, unless Lucifer rage quit into Cryo Freeze before he could go insane. 

After several security scans, bug checks and identity checks (Sam had been impersonated by several Syndicate-employed Shifters over the years to try and besmirch his name), he slumped down in the Impala’s Briefing Room.  
“Wow. You look like crap.” Dean raise eyebrows of absolutely no pity as he took in Sam’s haggard ‘Kill Me’ face.  
“And you look like a well-rested dick.” Sam shot back with a small nod to Cas as he followed his Captain in. “You should thank the Universe that you have the political talent of an asteroid.”  
“Hey man, looking at you that ain’t even an insult.” Dean shot back with a perky smile and took a seat. Sam was too tired to arrange his expression into a decent bitch-face. “Now I’m assuming this isn’t the report on how you’ve barely even scratched the surface of the surface, so what’s really going on?”  
“Just a minute.” Sam sighed, closed his eyes for a moment, waved a mutinous howdy to the blue dots and tried not to fall asleep. _Cuddle buddy, I need you to bring Dean, Cas and I over. I want to talk about something._  
_Of course. You sound tired._ The smile in Lucifer’s voice blossomed warmth in his head. Over the years, Sam had experimented with the ritual and connection of prayer to Lucifer, to the point where it was now more of a telepathic communication between the two of them.  
_Ugh._ Sam groaned back, there was a disgruntled yelp from outside his closed lids, and when he opened them, the familiar setting of The Cage surrounded him.

“Some warning, Sammy?” Dean huffed, and Cas gave Lucifer an odd side-eye.  
“Sire, why do you always pick me up by the – “  
“So! Business?” Lucifer clapped his hands with a smile and hopped up on the table to the left of Sam’s chair. The younger Winchester sighed, but a rinse of adrenaline fizzled through his chest at what he was about to suggest.  
“All of you know that this process is going to take years. Dean and I might die before everything is stable.” He clasped his hands as Dean’s brows flew up.  
“Mr Positive over here.”  
“Dean…” He trailed off and glanced at Lucifer, whose pale gaze was tinged with sharp curiosity. “I want to do this. I really do, I want to build a better world for the future. But I also want to live. I want to look forward to a day when I can relax and be free of pressure, y’know. And I think I know a way that I can see this reformation through and retire afterwards.”  
“You know Sookie Gland harvest is illegal, right?” Dean laughed. “I mean, we’ve done a lot of backwater shit, but the human life just ain’t meant to live past 120. And besides, it’ll take less time than you think. You’ll see.”  
“No, Dean, it won’t.” Sam took a deep breath and reached over for Lucifer’s hand. The Pirate King’s eyes flew wide with wonder; he was smart enough to work out where Sam was heading. “Before Dad…y’know… Lucifer offered me life with him. Immortality. Now more than ever…I have so much to do, enough for two lifetimes or more. And after that, I want to live a simple, happy life and just enjoy myself and my time with him.”  
Sam shot a warm look up at his lover, and the adoration in Lucifer’s eyes made his chest thrum with joy. The terrifying Pirate Captain was a second away from a tearful hug.  
“And…I wondered if Cas felt the same way about you.” Sam looked between the two of them. There was a moment of silence, and Sam thought Cas’s usually-deadpan face became tinged with hope. Dean just shrugged at his angel. “You wanna?”

Sam almost laughed at the lack of Eternal Existence Crisis his brother had, but deep down knew it wasn’t that simple. Dean had followed him to the ends of the galaxy to find him, had shot their father to protect him and had always made Sam priority one, above everything. It was simple to Dean; were Sam went, he went also, and Sam understood that. If it had been the other way round, it wouldn’t have taken him two and a half years to decide.  
“I would be very glad of that.” Castiel shot his brother a small, relieved smile. Maybe they’d talked about this before as well. Nonetheless, it felt like a huge weight had been lifted off Sam’s chest. Perhaps in the long run it would be more complicated, but for now he’d take this simple answer.  
“Well, I’m taking my new lifepartner to celebrate.” Lucifer pulled him up by the hand and into his arms as he hopped off the table. Sam could almost see the buzz of delighted energy around his Pirate King, and he had a grin on his face before he knew it. “You two do whatever.”  
Sam threw his arms around him and kissed his Captain before Lucifer even spirited them away.

***

**120 years later.**

“So give me the recap.”  
Sam smiled across at his gorgeous blonde pirate as they lay side by side in the blue grass of Cantaya Lambda. The white sun sparkled warm overhead, the thick grass hummed around them, but it was more than the tranquil planet that filled him with joy.  
“Let me see…the Trade Pacts are finally completed, space border disputes where we can interfere have been smoothed out into something that will last _peacefully_ at least, and the third generation of the Allied Planets Republic Representatives have been elected – fairly?” Sam raised his eyebrows over at Lucifer.  
“As fairly as politics can get.” Lucifer squeezed his hand and let him continue.  
“And let me see…oh yes, First Ambassador Sam Winchester died, and the extreme old age of 148. Looked like a raisin, but was a great man they say.” Sam smirked – Lucifer had come up with a crazy Distortion Field, made from…well, the science was so far advanced, that all Sam could describe it as was magic. But it made him appear to age in the public eye into a wizened sage of peace, although the fantastic hair had apparently stood the test of time. 

“A great man? Well let me see now…” Lucifer tugged at his lip and peered into the sky, as though it were hard to recall the information. “Ten thousand planets held a joint memorial for the man who ‘shaped the future for the future’. They say, even after his brother ‘died’, even when Sam’s legs couldn’t carry him, he still talked among the Allied Planets Republic, so dedicated was he. Thirty times decorated, war hero, freedom fighter and peacemaker, statues in every corner of the charted star systems in honour of peace…The Founder of Utopia, they called you.”  
Lucifer trailed off and reached over to stroke Sam’s hair off his forehead with a gentle thumb. “The galaxy went silent the day Sam Winchester died.”  
“You gave a beautiful speech at my funeral. I teared up.” Sam rolled over with a grin, so they were nose to nose. King Hermodr’s had moved him too, with open tears and a sung funeral dirge. His black hair had become streaked with grey, and blue lines littered his skin; it had torn at his heart to leave the Jormyr King behind, as Queen Borghild had left them behind some years before, but it was the natural order of things. “What happened to the real Head of Exploration and Alliance?”  
“Tied up in the basement. Remembers himself doing everything, so he didn’t really miss out.” Lucifer winked, and curled his fingers into the hair at the back of Sam’s neck. “You deserved it though. Every word those people said. And they only saw the front you put on.”

“You know you deserved it too. Cas, Dean, the fleet…But you. Devil on my shoulder.” Sam gazed at this man, this ancient creature that had bound itself to such a small, determined human. “How does it feel to actually do something good for humanity?”  
That earned a toothy snicker. “Anything to get you greedy bugs to stop killing and pillaging other races. Even if it’s making you happy.”  
“You make me the happiest man in the Universe.” Sam pressed his forehead against Lucifer’s, and just swelled with joy. It was _over_ , he was free, and his legacy would guard the Allied Planets for centuries, he hoped. Now he had Lucifer to himself, he had his time to himself, and it was like the weight of 120 years had just been lifted off his back. He was dead, and now he could enjoy his heaven.  
“Then I suppose I can live with myself.” Lucifer nuzzled against him, then pressed warm lips to Sam’s. They kissed under the clear yellow sky while Cantayals gambolled around in the distant plains, and the bright colours, untouched once again by Syndicate greed, blossomed about them. Just for once, everything seemed right, and despite the enslavement, betrayal, lies and tears of the past… Sam would struggle through it all again to end here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's the end! aw man, I got so emotional writing this! My boys are happy and it makes me happy and I hope it makes y'all happy too x) This has been such a huge, wonderful journey. You all have been so awesome along the way - I wouldn't have been inspired to update or finish this without your amazing comments, so thank you from the bottom of my heart! I really hope you enjoyed it, and I would love to know what you thought - of the end, of the work as a whole, anything really - so leave a comment if you like!  
> Thank you so, so much for coming on this journey with me ♥ Stay awesome my buddies! ‧⁺( ᵒ̴̶̷̥́ ◡ ᵒ̴̶̷̣̥̀ )⁺‧
> 
> P.S: Got end-of-fic blues...? well, why not heck out [**this new fic**](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11514852/chapters/25842087) I just started! :D
> 
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